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Xie Lian trudged behind the man in the black surcoat, dripping sweat onto his collar.
By now, he didn’t even bother to wipe it off. He was too busy keeping hold of the straps over his shoulders, struggling to lighten the burden on his back. The weight of a load wasn’t usually an issue; in fact, he could take a lot more, so long as it was balanced. He only kept it light in order to avoid too much attention.
It hadn’t helped him this time, though—not when bruises were already blooming generously across his body. So much for keeping a low profile, he thought glumly.
His main mistake, as far as he could tell, had been arriving into town way too late. The last time he’d caught a glimpse of the rebels through his binoculars, they’d been at least ten li behind; but that had been a week ago, and he’d had to sell the fancy binoculars to catch a boat down the river, so he’d reasoned it would be fine to just play it by ear. The people in this small town hadn’t seemed too concerned about the rebels approaching anyway, so he assumed he’d been keeping pace ahead of them. How fast could an army of frenzied zealots go, anyway?
As it turned out, the answer was: fast enough that he was in the middle of negotiating with an innkeeper when a heavy hand sank onto his shoulder.
No wonder it hadn’t been much of a haggle, he realized in hindsight. The inn owner had seemed way too happy to get the wretched statues out of the front room of his inn; his eyes had widened when Xie Lian pointed out their obvious age and origin to propose a price, and the old man had practically fallen over himself trying to gather them up. “Yes, they’re very old, very old!” he’d babbled, pushing them into his arms. “They’re junk, just junk—really, I should be the one paying you to get rid of them for me. Here, here, take them—”
Then came the hand on his shoulder, and a voice vicious enough to make any spirit tremble:
“And what have we got here?”
Crap!
When Xie Lian turned around, teetering precariously from the burden already on his back, he was face-to-face with one of the rebels. There was good news and bad news: the good, that from the looks of his light armor and his bow, this was definitely a scout. The rest of the army could still be fairly far behind.
The bad news: that he was reaching for his saber, and he did not look happy.
The innkeeper was already begging for mercy on the floor. Ah, well. Time to run through the list of excuses.
Xie Lian pulled an innocent face. “What have we got? Nothing, what’s wrong?”
The scout’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed at the blubbering innkeeper. “If you don’t know what’s wrong, then why does he know?”
Time for Plan 二.
“Oh, these statues? They’re some of those ancient Xianle idols, very evil, I was just gathering them up to smash them. I’m loyal to the one true heavenly emperor, Jun Wu, I’m on your side. Look, I’ve got his talisman right here.”
With that, he smiled encouragingly and held up one of the tassels on his girdle. The scout squinted down at it, but the distraction didn’t last long. Soon, he was raising his eyes slowly to the rest of Xie Lian’s luggage, before saying harshly:
“So what’s that all wrapped up on your back?”
Time for Plan 三.
“Oh, that? Nothing, I’m just a porter.”
“Porting what?”
“My master sent me to bring some old things from his—”
“Looks real heavy. Why don’t we take a look?”
Time for Plan 四.
Ah, there was no Plan 四. Oh well, couldn’t be helped.
Xie Lian ran.
The problem with escaping into the market, however—apart from the fact that running with such a heavy load naturally meant knocking over everything along his way—became apparent when he glanced over his shoulder, and felt his stomach drop; because the scout had untied his horse and vaulted on, and was now charging after him through the narrow market, holding his saber aside and crying out—
“Yong’an heretic! Tai Hua sympathizer! Catch him!”
At once, he was surrounded by unfriendly glares bearing down, and realized in an instant: ah, so this was why nobody in town was nervous about the rebels.
Every single person here was a rebel!!!
More like Plan 死, he had time to think helplessly, before he was swarmed by the angry townspeople.
Getting beaten to death was new, but it wasn’t the worst way he’d died so far, he figured. He’d crossed a lot of active battlefields between the kingdoms and met his end in far more embarrassing ways. Once, for example, he’d stepped in front of a canon; it was a favorite weapon of the Ming Guang kingdom, for reasons that were too uncomfortable to linger on, making that kind of death all the more awkward. At least it was less painful than getting surprised by muskets, while sneaking one night across a Xuan Zhen line—death by pa-pa-pa, but not in the fun way. in a way, it made the whole “beaten to death by a mob” thing feel almost rustic and charming.
If anything, he was just really upset about his cargo getting destroyed. It had taken him three months to gather these artifacts, and selling them back in the emperor’s safe domain would have given him enough money to settle down for a while—maybe even more, since they were getting smashed to rarity in the rebel domain. Ah, well. At least the prices would go up even more after these got smashed. Xie Lian just wished his head didn’t have to get smashed along with them.
In fact, he’d more or less made peace with it all when a voice suddenly came through the crowd:
“Stop!”
The people of the mob, who’d been halfway through yanking off either Xie Lian’s pack or his legs, looked up. The scout lowered his saber.
In the middle of the commotion stood a plain-faced man in a black surcoat.
This was a formal garment, solemn and fine, with a carefully embroidered panel on the front. This should have been a badge denoting his rank beneath the emperor, but there was something off about it: the motifs were silver butterflies and red flowers, which Xie Lian didn’t recognize. Most interestingly, the motifs weren’t contained only in the panel; they were sewn such that they seeped out, and brought butterflies trailing all through the man’s deep sleeves.
After hundreds of years, it was getting seriously hard to keep track of these sorts of things. What kind of rank was a badge like this? At least this could be a distraction, though. Surely these townspeople would be way more upset with an emperor’s vassal somehow wandering into—
“Stand down,” said the mysterious man, gesturing towards Xie Lian. “He’s with me.”
Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. What are you, a devil sent specifically to drag me into the underworld?! Immediately, he shook his head.
“Actually, I’ve never seen you in my life! In fact, I don’t even know what—”
But in the next moment, he was stunned into silence. The scout had dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the dusty road.
“Forgive me! I had no idea one of Chengzhu’s officers would be here!”
The man was unfazed. “We thought the terms of our truce were clear. How will you repay Chengzhu for attacking one of his porters?”
The scout was instantly terrified, gesturing wildly towards Xie Lian. “We didn’t know, honest! He didn’t say, we just—”
“It’s fine,” Xie Lian sighed, standing up and dusting himself off. “I actually do remember you, I’d forgotten. Let’s go, I don’t want to make any more of a fuss.”
And so, this was how he ended up following the man in the black surcoat.
Once they were far enough away, taking a winding path down a cliffside, Xie Lian sighed in relief. “Thanks for helping me out back there and lying for me, I’m really sorry for the trouble. I’m happy to part ways now, if that’s—”
“Follow me,” the man said, without turning around. “Chengzhu would like to meet you.”
Knowing that an invitation like this was more of an order, Xie Lian swallowed thickly and kept on following him.
Before long, he spotted a courtyard up ahead.
More accurately, it was impossible to miss: a massive four-walled courtyard house, rimmed with tall and menacing red walls, was perched at the very top of a soaring bluff. Xie Lian felt dizzy just looking over the edge of the path; a structure built up here like this felt like a challenge to the heavens.
This made him curious, and he thought to ask the servant ahead of him a little more; but he felt like he’d best lay low, so he just followed along instead, carefully ducking to make sure his pack didn’t scrape the archway on the way in.
The architecture of this place was interesting. The rambling stone and sharply descending shingles which made up the courtyard seemed almost disorderly; but from looking at them, with his experience in old stone, Xie Lian could tell that they were fine materials. It was only that they’d been arranged in such a way to look amateurishly built and disorganized—almost like a mockery of an official’s home.
Ah, Xie Lian thought solemnly to himself. A wealthy eccentric. Having encountered this sort of character for sales many times before, he allowed himself to relax a bit and looked around.
He was led through the courtyard, where some shady-looking characters were milling about dressed in black—at least here, he was cautious enough not to meet their eyes. To his relief, he wasn’t left here; instead, he was led up the steps to the inner hall.
This hall was lavish, and certainly caught his attention with its woven drapings; but to his shock, the servant kept on walking, until at last they’d crossed a second courtyard—much more peaceful and isolated, with a small pond and a few open pavilions. At the edge of the pond, a figure in red robes was quietly tending to a few blossoms. A couple of butterflies fluttered around.
Xie Lian’s eyes trailed across this figure, but he was ushered up to the living quarters. Upon arriving, he cleared his throat and looked to the servant.
Sliding open the door, the servant bowed. With no other choice, Xie Lian stepped up into the room.
In an instant, Xie Lian felt transported to a different place: the room was decorated in a gaudy and unfamiliar style, foreign to the eye. Lavish and loud, stuffed with elaborately carved furniture and gilded mirrors, thick rugs and a variety of seats of all sorts of materials and heights, it seemed like something a crow might put together—one of each. it seemed most like the style of Shi Wudu’s kingdom, if it had to be compared to something, but really only because that was the kingdom trading the most with faraway places. In short, the style here was discordant, and entirely its own.
Just as he was looking around in bewilderment, however, Xie Lian heard someone step in behind him.
Turning swiftly, he found that the young man in the red robe had stepped in from the garden, and was watching him pointedly.
Seeing him so close, it was clear to see that the garments he wore—which, at a distance, could have passed for ordinary robes—were really quite unusual; the sleeves of the long coat were buttoned tight to the wrists, and the front was open to show off the trousers. Oddly, compared to the official who had guided him here, this man’s clothing was mostly undecorated. Only a length of black silk around his neck gave much obvious show of wealth. Furthermore, his long hair was in neither a braid nor a topknot, but rather drawn towards the back of his head, from where it fell in waves.
Opposite from an eyepatch, one eye gleamed, and the lips below curled into a smile.
A handsome face, but one that seemed to know exactly what it wanted.
Xie Lian broke into a sweat, trying to figure out what this mish-mash of styles said about this man’s loyalties. Cozying up to any new rich eccentric was always about figuring out which kingdoms to praise, and which to sling mud at; but what on earth was this disordered display of allegiances?! If this was really some wealthy trader from Shi Wudu’s kingdom, then he supposed that—
“Gege!” called the man, standing and sweeping into a bow. “Greetings. Come in, make yourself at home.”
At that, all Xie Lian’s political reasoning went right out the door. He turned red.
Who are you calling gege?!
Still, this was no time to lose his head. “I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said sheepishly, already backing out. “I think there’s been a big mistake, I’m not actually your porter. You—”
“Oh?” the man said thoughtfully, crossing his arms. “But you’re carrying Xianle artifacts, right?”
The light and jovial tone confused Xie Lian, and he cleared his throat, saying with a voice growing ever thinner: “Hahaha, actually, I’m just collecting them to destroy them…”
The man tilted his head. “Why would you do that? Then I couldn’t buy them from you.”
WHY DIDN ’T YOU SAY THAT INITIALLY?
In an instant, Xie Lian had cheerfully set down his pack and started to undo the ties. “Of course I wouldn’t destroy them, just kidding, they’re in perfect condition! Come and have a look, ancient Xianle artifacts, very rare now—predating the kingdom of Tai Hua—er, or the kingdom of Jun Wu, whatever you prefer to call it, hahaha—by at least eight centuries; guaranteed to be authentic, or you get your money back!”
“No need to advertise,” the man said, in a voice that was almost a purr; the hair at the back of Xie Lian’s neck prickled as he felt sharp eyes settle on him. “I know authentic goods when I see them.”
For the sake of business, Xie Lian decided not to dwell on that.
The strange man, who called himself San Lang, insisted on having tea before discussing business. Satisfied to have a nice meal, Xie Lian agreed, and pleasant conversation followed.
As it turned out, San Lang wasn’t from the kingdom of Shi Wudu at all. Instead, he claimed to have been born in Tai Hua, though he’d traveled through all the heavenly kingdoms for many years. What he thought of Jun Wu’s invasion, he didn’t say; Xie Lian assumed he must be one of those commerce-minded types, who simply went wherever the wind blew. Being much the same, Xie Lian felt much at home.
In fact, he felt rather too suspiciously at home: San Lang even had a few ancient Xianle swords himself, which he proudly displayed on the wall. They were definitely the real thing, in perfect condition, maybe even the same ones that had once hung in Xie Lian’s armory, way back when he’d been the god of this land. It was hard to tell; he hadn’t seen them in centuries.
“How’d you get your hands on those?” Xie Lian said, through a mouthful of food, which one of the black-robed figures from before had shuffled in and set down. “I thought the contents of the royal palace were ransacked by the Ming Guang kingdom when Xianle fell.”
“They were,” San Lang said casually, as he served another ball of rice onto Xie Lian’s plate. “That’s why I went there to fetch them.”
Thinking this young man was being endearingly humble and polite, Xie Lian laughed. “Then you must be great at bargaining; I’m sure it took skills, persuading them to let you buy something so priceless.”
San Lang had been watching him with his chin propped on his palms, seeming mostly preoccupied with eagerly watching Xie Lian eat. At this comment, however, he raised his brows.
“Buy?” he said innocently.
Xie Lian choked on his cake.
“I’m sorry, don’t be upset,” San Lang reassured. “They were stolen in the first place, so I’ve restored them to their rightful land. Something like that, does gege really consider it stealing?”
Hearing such earnest words from a man who had definitely just revealed himself to be quite deadly, Xie Lian wasn’t quite sure what to think. “Mm, that makes sense,” he said offhandedly, taking another sip of his tea.
“In fact, I have more.”
Xie Lian blinked and looked up. “More?”
“I have a whole trove of Xianle artifacts. They’re all stashed right underneath this very building.”
Hearing this, Xie Lian finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity:
“San Lang, you’ve been very kind, but I really don’t get it. It’s not like most Tai Hua people, apart from scholars and rich people, care about preserving random old things from the Xianle dynasty; but having a big collection like this in the middle of rebel territory, where it’s even worse—aren’t you scared? You know the orders: if anyone’s found with foreign gods here, or even a little talisman from another kingdom, it’s bad news.”
“Mm,” San Lang agreed, way too casually. In fact, he was picking his nails with an ancient Xianle blade in his hand. “You get killed on the spot if it’s a Crown Prince statue, right?”
The mention of his former title made Xie Lian grow pale. Even he didn’t risk carrying artifacts like that around. “That’s right…”
San Lang looked up with a smile, and a dangerous flash of his eyes.
“Want to see my collection now?”
🫚
Xie Lian followed the light of San Lang’s candle, slowly making his way down the damp staircase. A cool wind from the cavern below made the flame flicker, casting ghoulish shadows against the wall.
Am I about to be murdered? It wasn’t totally out of the question. Xie Lian had been murdered for his money before, though this man didn’t seem in need of money. Maybe he was the kind of disturbing rich person Xie Lian had sometimes encountered—“I want the most precious artifact of all, a real human being locked away, ahahaha!”—that kind of weird thing. Hopefully not. Why was Xie Lian following a random stranger down a staircase again?
Wasn’t it just pathetic, wondering so intensely who would preserve his old statues for seemingly no reason, and at such a dire risk?
Wealthy Tai Hua citizens wanted them to fashionably display in their sitting rooms, legitimizing the emperor’s rule; Ming Guang nobles wanted them as spoils of war; Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen nobles were too busy fighting each other to care about them. There were so many little pieces of Xie Lian’s past scattered about carelessly, none of them looked upon with kindness.
Thinking suddenly that he didn’t want to see another one of his statues being used as a coat rack after all, Xie Lian cleared his throat just as they reached the lower level. “San Lang, I’ve changed my mind; actually, I’d rather just…”
But then San Lang raised his candle in the dark, and Xie Lian’s words faded in his throat.
The massive basement was absolutely cluttered with crown prince statues—but these weren’t neglected and stuffed into a corner; they were arranged artfully and surrounded with offerings and candles, flowers and burnt-out incense sticks, the latter giving the space a thick musky scent. A scene like this probably hadn’t existed for eight hundred years. Though most of the statues didn’t resemble Xie Lian much, he could still feel the glow of his past all around him.
His eyes widened, and his heart thudded to a stop. He almost got a little choked up.
The first impression:
Oh, how sweet! Someone really does cherish my legacy!
The second impression:
Okay, it ’s getting weird, time to go.
But just as Xie Lian started inching back towards the stairs, San Lang turned to face him. His candle lit a fire in his eye, throwing shadows up his face.
“I must say, I’m curious; in all his business, has gege ever seen a collection as complete as this?”
“Definitely not,” Xie Lian said with politeness, as he gingerly felt for the step behind him with his shoe. “Being such a connoisseur of Tai Hua history, you must be really loyal to—”
“To the emperor?” San Lang laughed harshly. “That weakling Lang Qianqiu?”
At this, Xie Lian felt like he was going insane, and finally asked half-laughing, half-crying:
“You’re openly cursing the emperor, you stole from Ming Guang kingdom, you’re parading around ranked servants, and you’re keeping hundreds of crown prince statues in your basement in rebel territory?! Just how many different ways do you want to die?!”
“As many as it takes.”
“To do what?”
Lit ghoulishly by his candle, which seemed to soar along with his voice, San Lang thundered with sudden zeal:
“To bring back the light of true glory, which fools clamber each other like rats to claim, never knowing that none of them ever stood a chance—not the kingdom of Tai Hua—none of the kingdoms and their idiot emperors—because the one true glory worthy of devotion, strong enough to raise the dead, couldn’t ever be claimed by anyone, not even in a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand years!”
“You mean the ancient kingdom of Xianle?” Xie Lian croaked.
But at that, at last, San Lang’s passion sweetened. His disposition turned from frenzied to fond, and he seemed again the polite and gracious host from before. Smiling softly, he corrected with a shake of his head:
“The kingdom of Xianle’s god.”
Xie Lian’s eyes grew wide, and his heart pounded. Pale and shocked, he stared.
Yet, as though he’d just been talking about the weather, San Lang beckoned and started back towards the stairs.
“Now, let’s head up and discuss prices on your artifacts.”
Regaining just enough sense to nod, Xie Lian spared one last stunned glance back at the room of his own statues before following.
🫚
Plink …plink…plink…
Xie Lian stared down at the table, seeing his own glum face reflected in the varnish, feeling oddly unable to look up.
He could hear the coins being counted across from him, and he’d usually be giving a sidelong glance to make sure everything was in place; but this time, he couldn’t. The price San Lang had offered for his average-condition Xianle artifacts had nearly made him throw up blood; he’d almost meekly tried to haggle it down on San Lang’s behalf before being stopped by the extraction of a coin purse so massive that he felt embarrassed just looking at it.
He still had no idea what was going on, or how to react, when San Lang announced:
“Done. Here.”
When Xie Lian glanced up, he saw the young man holding up a fistful of strings, heavily loaded with coins, all clattering together as they were held out.
After a moment, at last, though wanting to bite his own tongue off, Xie Lian spoke quietly:
“I can’t.”
“Hm?”
“I can’t do this to you.”
San Lang seemed almost amused. “You can’t sell me the artifacts?”
“I can’t let you nourish this kind of feeling,” Xie Lian said firmly. “It isn’t right.”
Lowering the coins, San Lang tilted his head in interest. “What feeling is gege referring to, exactly?”
With a hesitant sigh, Xie Lian went on.
“You’re clearly very involved in this image of the kingdom of Xianle—what it used to be, and the person who used to rule over it. It’s definitely nice, to lose yourself in ancient tales for a while. It definitely helps me sell artifacts when people do it, so I usually let them. But seeing you risk your life for it, get so enamoured that you’d waste all your money on it, I have to tell you that it’s false. The kingdom was never so grand as you think it was, and the person ruling it, whose statues you have in your basement—”
His breath caught, and his voice wavered before he was able to continue.
“I can tell you, just from the old scrolls I’ve collected, that he wasn’t anyone to be venerated.”
The bitterness in the last word betrayed him. He fell silent.
But San Lang didn’t seem bothered. He leaned back and considered the words, then gestured noncommittally. “That’s your opinion.”
Xie Lian stared for a moment. Then, he was mildly offended. “I’m a scholar of ancient Xianle.”
“That’s fine.”
“What do you mean, that’s fine?” Seeing the more crass side to this young man emerge, Xie Lian turned strict. “I won’t take something like this personally, but you should really respect an elder with more knowledge about a subject than you.”
“So you’re an elder?”
Xie Lian almost choked. “Well, I—I’m not young. It makes no difference.”
“But gege, I’m following your lead,” San Lang complained, though with a hint of a smile. “The older the ginger, the spicier it gets. Didn’t you say it yourself, just a while ago?”
At once, faced with his own sleazy salesman line, Xie Lian turned beet-red. He stood quickly, but San Lang stood with him.
“I meant it,” said the young man said, his single eye smoldering. He held out the fistful of strings again. The coins clinked.
Xie Lian hesitated for one long moment, then clumsily reached down and took them.
Satisfied, San Lang stepped aside and took on a more casual tone again. “I’d like more,” he said. “Whenever you find a Xianle artifact you consider particularly precious, I’d like you to bring it to me. I’m looking for one in particular.”
“And which is that?” Xie Lian said hoarsely, as he shouldered his pack to go.
“Don’t worry. I’ll know it when I see it.”
It wasn’t until Xie Lian had gone halfway down the cliff, still dizzy with confusion, that he glanced down at his fistful of stringed coins and found a necklace entwined within. Yet, when he turned back to return it, he was stopped in his tracks.
The courtyard house had gone entirely dark and cold; no light shone, and all signs of life had been extinguished. A desolate wind whistled through the stone, the only sound in the blackness.
Shivering, Xie Lian tightened the straps on his shoulders and hurried down before the night’s chill set in.