The candle flame quivered once.
With a muted scoff, Jiang Kui ignored it, arms crossed as she leaned against the windowed wall within. Facing away from each other with only exquisite lattice between, wandering starlight from without met wavering lamplight from within. Two silent shadows overlapped amidst intermingling cold and warmth.
Considerably taller, Zhu Zian’s silhouette stretched longer to eclipse her head.
Jiang Kui stared pensively downward where their darkness merged. Softly she asked: “Are you well?”
Gazing at the sprawling galaxy above, Zhu Zian seemed momentarily entranced before responding lightly: “Mm.”
“Yesterday I saw Ah Rong and she said you disappeared for days – were you truly hurt previously?”
“I’m fine,” Zhu Zian quickly dismissed, “just very busy recently.”
“Something major happened yesterday,” he continued.
“You mean what I…”
“No, not you.”
Somewhat bothered without knowing why, Jiang Kui had assumed he had discovered her assassination attempt at yesterday’s Autumn Day feast. But instead Zhu Zian stated evenly: “Last night three scholar-officials were found dead after the banquet. Though authorities claim a drunken accident, I’m certain the emerging broker ‘Old Whitehead’ was behind it.”
As expected, Zhu Zian was already aware of this mysterious new broker.
Three officials dead…Jiang Kui recalled just borrowing an awl-sword from one such junior official yesterday. Had he been among the victims?
“One fresh spring examinee who boldly revisited the old Jingde era policy critiques opposing eunuch military authority,” explained Zhu Zian. “My information indicates he was student of professor Yu Changrong, tutor in the Imperial Academy.”
“No wonder…” Jiang Kui murmured. No wonder teacher had remained abnormally collected yet downcast today, slender fingers trembling lightly against the lectern…grieving over his student’s death.
“There was also an attempt on my life after yesterday’s banquet,” she confided lowly. “Do you think it’s this ‘Old Whitehead’ again?”
Jiang Kui recounted the previous night’s events in detail, save no mention of encountering Xie Wuyang…for some inexplicable reason, she felt strangely reluctant to let Zhu Zian know what had transpired aboard that boat.
“Any guess who wants you dead?” Zhu Zian asked after she finished.
“The first assassination attempt used palace eunuchs to drown me; the second employed martial world assassins. If orchestrated by the same mastermind…it suggests initial ignorance of my martial prowess until later discovery of my identity.”
A flash of insight hit her. “Xie Wuyang?”
The silhouette across seemed to start.
“I have an outrageous hypothesis…” she mused slowly. “What if Xie Wuyang is trying to kill me?”
Unexpectedly her speculative accusation was only met with lasting silence punctuated by an abrupt loud laugh, seemingly hunched over clutching his belly.
Jiang Kui bristled indignantly. “What’s so funny?”
“Silly little Jiang Xiaoman,” Zhu Zian choked down his mirth. “Why ask for your hand if Crown Prince Xie wanted you dead?”
It was the second time Zhu Zian directly named Xie Wuyang by his personal and surnamed title, forgoing the conventional courtesy name. Such rude address towards royalty seemed reasonable coming from a carefree martial world rogue.
Privately Jiang Kui conceded her theory made little sense, yet she still contended: “On both murder attempts Xie Wuyang happened to be present. Isn’t that suspicious? Moreover, you claim Old Whitehead has ties to court factions – what if the crown prince has reasons to kill me?”
“Alright, you raise fair points,” Zhu Zian soothed as if humoring her. Switching tones, his voice turned grave: “I came tonight about an important matter. Remember back at the bookshop you promised a year of unpaid work and three requests? I’m calling one in now.”
Jiang Kui said flatly. “I don’t recall any such thing.”
She must have taken leave of her senses to let this man ruthlessly exploit her so.
“For my first request – don’t get hurt,” Zhu Zian breezed on heedlessly.
“Huh?” Jiang Kui cocked her head, uncomprehending.
“Promise me first.”
“…Fine, you have my word.”
“The hour of the tiger, eighth day of the eighth moon at Tonghua Gate,” Zhu Zian murmured after extracting her reluctant assent. “I’ve caught wind of a secret meeting but don’t know the attendees or agenda. I need you to eavesdrop unnoticed.”
“You want me to snoop around?”
Zhu Zian nodded. “Danger remains unclear with potential formidable experts lurking, but your skills should suffice to conceal presence and flee if caught. Just don’t overreach yourself and absolutely no injuries.”
“Very well,” Jiang Kui agreed.
Abruptly switching topics, she suddenly asked: “Zhu Zian, how long have we known each other?”
The silhouette seemed to ponder briefly before replying: “Around eight years I believe. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason, just on a whim I…” Jiang Kui’s voice softened.
In a flash her toes pivoted noiselessly, whisking herself out the window and throwing open the doors in one smooth motion to emerge directly before Zhu Zian’s front.
Still garbed in dark round-collar robes and silver sword, white lapels peeking around a student-styled face mask, Zhu Zian looked plainly stunned as with startling speed her hand shot forth to rip off his disguise.
“Felt like seeing your face for once,” she finished.
The mask clattered to the ground.
Wind stirring their hair, she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes.
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