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Sometimes little details of their first encounter floated back to Fang Duobing even in waking moments. He had said to Li Lianhua that he was a child then, and he didn’t even remember what the famous Li Xiangyi looked like, only that the leader of Sigu Sect had given him a wooden sword, told him to practice his martial arts, and believed in him despite all odds.
It was a moment to make anyone worship Li Xiangyi. When he grew up, Fang Duobing had tried to convince himself not to be so obsessed, that it was but an offhand gesture by a man obsessed with martial arts, somehow who probably thought himself virtuous by merely throwing a few gracious words to a sickly boy who couldn’t even walk properly. But Li Xiangyi’s heroism never faded from his mind.
Until he met Li Lianhua, he mused fondly, glancing at the man who was now taking it for granted that Fang Duobing was going to be his assistant. He turned back to poke at the remains of the doused fire with a tree branch. “You said you would help,” Fang Duobing said, using his best accusatory tone, “but are you helping only with your eyes?”
The man once known as Li Xiangyi tucked his hands in his sleeves and replied, “Surely you don’t expect me, a weak physician, to perform any manual work.” The meek, innocent-sounding voice wasn’t convincing anyone. “I'm keeping watch for you,” he went on in a low, furtive voice. “The coroner could come back at any moment.”
Just why they were sneaking around the coroner’s private residence was another question.
Besides, Fang Duobing realised that Li Lianhua was in fact watching the blackened patch on the ground with a wary look, as though expecting something to explode at any moment.
Wait a minute-
When the smoke cleared, Fang Duobing descended wrathfully in the direction of Li Lianhua, only to find that the man had already disappeared. All of a sudden, Fang Duobing remembered the way Li Xiangyi, consummate swordsman of his day, had jauntily walked away that day, so long ago.
***
“How did you even know that something was going to explode?!” he demanded, when he finally found the man ensconced in the tea nook of the newly refurbished Lotus Tower, savouring (by the thick fragrance) an exquisite pu’er. Having already given up all pretence at daily circulation of his qi to suppress the Bicha poison, Li Lianhua seemed intent on living each day as it came, and was currently reading through (judging from the prominent sauce stains) his book of recipes.
Li Lianhua looked puzzled at his question. “Me?” he said. Or rather, he attempted to look puzzled, while he shook his head, letting a few strands of his hair fall over his forehead.
Fang Duobing ignored what would have been his usual internal wince at the increasing grey in Li Lianhua’s hair, and concentrated on the man’s expression. Innocent, hah. He briefly wondered whether Li Lianhua had long given up trying to put on a guiltless face before him, or whether it had now become too easy to read Li Lianhua’s emotions due to their long familiarity. Either way- He took a deep breath and reminded himself not to grind his teeth: it was beneath him. “I examined the remains of the fire,” he said. “It was some kind of incendiary device that was designed to go off if someone tried to break it.”
“Hm-hm.” Now Li Lianhua looked like he was trying to resist a gleeful smile. “And why would anyone do that? What a puzzle!”
“You knew it was going to happen,” Fang Duobing accused him. “How?”
Under his steady glare, Li Lianhua said serenely, “I examined the body.”
“The body?” Fang Duobing echoed, “but-“
“-which one?”
Fang Duobing nodded.
Li Lianhua shook his head, “Come now, surely you’re better than that,” he said. “Think about what the message said, and what we saw at the morgue.”
Two days ago, a message had arrived from the local magistrate in the next town, requesting the assistance of Li Xiangyi and Fang Duobing to investigate a case of multiple deaths by drowning. At first, the details seemed gruesome, but uncomplicated: a dozen bodies had washed up on the shore, seemingly the victims of a large fishing boat that had capsized at sea. It was the season for thunderstorms, after all.
The official coroner (whose report had provided the impetus to seek outside assistance) had elaborated on why their deaths seemed irregular: while nearly all of the bodies were swollen and pale, the faces unrecognizable, there was one body that was very different on the inside.
“The one with blackened lungs,” Fang Duobing said.
“No water. With traces of ash in the nostrils and throat. Death from a fire; or more precisely, from inhaling excessive smoke.” Li Lianhua’s voice grew severe. “He died in a fire, not by drowning”
By now Fang Duobing had joined Li Lianhua at the tea nook, helping himself to the pu’er. “By now you’ve already looked into his background and know of his real identity,” he said. “Right?”
It was too simple to goad Li Lianhua into a modest, “This humble physician didn’t do much. It was pure coincidence.”
Fang Duobing scoffed loudly at that, and looked back when he was joined by a sarcastic laugh. “Di Feisheng,” he said towards the other end of the Lotus Tower. “You took your time!”
The erstwhile leader of the Jinyuan Alliance had disappeared the night that Li Lianhua received the appeal from the magistrate, citing a personal errand. He entered almost soundlessly into the tea nook and placed a small white brocade box, half-carelessly, half-ceremoniously, onto the tabletop before Li Lianhua. “Why are you even doing the magistrate’s bidding by involving yourself in this?” he demanded, yet sounding uncaring of the reply, even as he seated himself properly on a bench opposite them, angling himself to be able to watch both their faces. “I thought the great Li Xiangyi cared nothing for these yapping officials.”
“Hush!” Li Lianhua said in mock-alarm, “uttering such disrespectful words could lose us our heads!”
“And so many meaningless threats about beheading ordinary peasants too,” Di Feisheng went on. “Surely you’re not taking them to heart, Li Lianhua?”
Li Lianhua pressed a hand to his chest, as though pained. “I was thinking that since our Xiaobao is, after all connected to the court, it’s nothing more than-“ he paused dramatically, “-noblesse oblige!”
Sure, impute it to the Fang family, while neatly ignoring his own royal ties (albeit of the previous ruling family), Fang Duobing rolled his eyes, showing Li Lianhua what he thought of that quip. “The leader of Sigu Sect sent a message too,” he pointed out, “requesting for us to trace the murderer’s previous activities.”
“And why should they be making such requests of ordinary me?” Li Lianhua asked, real annoyance seeping into his voice.
By now Li Lianhua had pretended to notice the brocade-decorated box placed before him, and had gone into a fake maidenly flutter, saying “A-Fei, you shouldn’t have!” Yet he removed the lid at once, revealing a jewelled lady’s ring shaped like a butterfly. As they watched, the butterfly wings, even though they were obviously gold filigree, began to flap by themselves, throwing glints of light all over the tea nook. “Beauty out of this world! This humble one is undeserving of such generosity!” came the exclamation as the box lid closed on the ring. The sharp-eyed glint in Li Lianhua’s eyes fooled no one, however. “So I was right. It is him.”
Di Feisheng, having helped himself to the pu’er and was about to take a sip, choked at Li Lianhua’s performance and slapped his teacup onto the small table at his side, managing at the last minute not to crush it to powder. “Coming on too strong, Li Xiangyi!” he said, using Li Lianhua’s previous name, as he always did when he was irritated. “How did you know?”
“Few men are capable of making both miniature grenade and delicate jewellery,” Li Lianhua said. “Within the empire, only Wei Wei, also known as Needle Hands, has this ability.” His expression grew serious for a second. “Or I should say, had this ability.”
Fang Duobing thought back to the only body in the coroner’s morgue that had not been covered in dark, sunburnt skin, nor the wiry, muscular build of fishermen. Rather, the dead man – the dead Needle Hands – was pale and thin. Even with his body swollen by being soaked in water, it was obvious that he had never done much physical labour. “But why was he killed?” he asked.
Instead of answering, Li Lianhua asked, “Why do men usually kill?”
Di Feisheng said, “Vengeance.”
Fang Duobing said, “Power.”
“Greed,” Li Lianhua reminded them. “Sigu Sect said that the court had recently made enquiries on master craftsmen who can make grenades. Anyone who can produce a reliable, functioning model can expect a hefty reward from the court. As I said, within the empire, only Needle Hands could do it.”
Fang Duobing thought back to the explosion. “It must have been only a prototype, for it to be unrecognizable. Otherwise, it would not have been thrown out together with the other fishermen’s belongings and burnt.”
“And in whose yard did we find the remains of the fire?” Li Lianhua prompted.
Ah.
***
The coroner, a man who looked so ordinary that he should have raised suspicions the first time Fang Duobing saw him, didn’t take kindly to being confronted and accused of murder. “If I really did it, would I highlight the discrepancy of the bodies and request for Li Xiangyi’s expertise?” he asked.
Di Feisheng nodded. “Yes, you would. You couldn’t find the prototype for the new invention by Needle Hands even after killing him, and you wanted Li Lianhua to help unearth it.”
The coroner’s eyes lit up. “You found it!”
Fang Duobing took over the denouement. “You would have found it too, if only you had examined the deceased’s belongings more carefully. Instead, you were busy trying to manufacture a mystery just so you could have Li Lianhua do your work for you.”
It only took a moment for the coroner to decide to make a run for it.
It took less than a moment for Di Feisheng to grab him and not-so-incidentally dislocate his knee.
***
Li Lianhua calmly sealed the envelope holding the letter he had written to Sigu Sect, and pushed it to the side. At their questioning looks, he deigned to sigh. “Sigu Sect has always been the patron of Needle Hands. He preferred making jewellery to weapons, and when he disappeared, they suspected foul play.”
“So by the time they wrote to you, they already knew that he was dead,” Fang Duobing said.
Li Lianhua shrugged. “Even inside Sigu Sect, they couldn’t have him working for anyone else but themselves. If he hadn’t been killed, they would have ended up killing him too, just to ensure that his inventions were not in the hands of the court.”
Coercion taking the appearance of protection.
Di Feisheng was the first to respond, his eyes narrowed and his expression harsh. “Their message came right after the court’s appeal to you. It only looked like a request for help. A warning to you, Li Lianhua? That if you too stray too far from what they can control, your life is forfeit?”
“That was why they involved you,” Fang Duobing reasoned. His head hurt. He knew that even Sigu Sect was manipulative, but he had always regarded them through rose-coloured goggles, due to their history with Li Xiangyi.
“Why do you think they care so much whether Li Lianhua lives or die?” Li Lianhua asked. On the surface, he was casually amused, but at the same time, underneath, Fang Duobing could see that he was stern and unyielding. “Their machinations do not amuse me. I will do as I wish.”
In that moment, Fang Duobing saw again in his mind’s eye the faded memory of how Li Xiangyi had jauntily walked away after encouraging a sickly boy. He breathed out. It didn’t matter if it was just an occasion of casual kindness from the top swordsman of the day to a sickly boy. It mattered that it was Li Xiangyi who said it, and that it was Fang Xiaobao who believed it.
“Eh,” he said, getting their attention, “they think too much of themselves, if that’s the case. They aren’t going to touch a single hair on you, Li Lianhua, not while I, Fang Xiaobao, still lives!”
“Count me in,” Di Feisheng said.
“Che!” Li Lianhua gave his best unimpressed look, but after a while, he seemed to relax. “Do as you wish.”
/end