Here is my attempt at translating the Chinese passage into English:
The martial world has strict rules – those who broker deals never reveal their faces.
It’s far too dangerous exposing oneself.
As human bridges linking employers and assassins through intricate webs of information, the moment a broker’s identity becomes known, vengeance will surely come knocking.
Thus brokers typically adopt alternate personas on the side, choosing names completely unlike their true selves. From voice to appearance to habits, everything they present is false. Their utmost secrecy makes them some of the most mysterious figures upon the jianghu stage.
Jiang Kui had known Zhu Zian for eight years. Across this long stretch, whether separated by screens, curtains, or windows as now, they conversed.
Eight years was ample time to fully trust one another. Despite their close relations Jiang Kui never pried into Zhu Zian’s real identity or made attempts to glimpse his appearance.
Some tacit understanding kept a cautious distance between them.
Yet tonight beneath waters of starlight, the stirring candleflames stirred an impulse in her to finally see him plain.
She could not say what prompted this. Perhaps it was racing with him through Chang’an’s endless streets that day, or the playful gust through her hair.
From that moment on, the old distance had been breached.
So she slipped barefoot from the window to abruptly tear off his mask.
Its clatter resounded amidst the splashing star fire.
Their gaze met directly.
The face seemed caught between boy and man – clean as almost unimaginable. Crisp jawline, proud nose, pronounced brows, and faintly pressed attractive lips.
Yet…
“Zhu Zian, this isn’t your true face,” Jiang Kui stated quietly.
“No, I molded it,” Zhu Zian readily admitted.
Initially startled, he tilted his head studying her before a slanted smile upturned his lips. “Foolish little Jiang Xiaoman. I’ve wandered the jianghu for eight years and seen countless attempts to glimpse me. Do you take me for relying solely on a mask?”
That smiling voice finally gained visible form. His grin held a youthful mischief, somehow boyish yet amiable, his gaze also hints of a tranquil, silent joy.
“I never thought that!” Jiang Kui huffed, avoiding his eyes.
“You did,” Zhu Zian immediately called out.
Miffed, Jiang Kui whipped out a fist, only to have her wrist swiftly caught. Sudden shock jolted through her…somehow his hands were thickly wrapped in undyed linen.
The coarse strips concealed his fingers in vague edges.
A fleeting pang wrenched her heart.
“You…” she hesitated.
“I’m fine,” Zhu Zian quickly assured. “Wasn’t hurt.”
“Back at the tombs, did you…”
“Just minor wounds, all healed.”
“But your hands…”
“I’m fine.”
Doubting, Jiang Kui fixed him with a stern look and demanded he show his hands. Zhu Zian obeyed, allowing her to turn them over repeatedly, carefully scrutinizing for injuries yet finding none beneath the linen shrouds.
But she realized no warmth could penetrate that barrier any longer.
And suddenly she missed fiercely the sensation of his palm against her ear’s pulse.
“Why did you…” she started to ask why he bound them so.
“Rather not say.”
Jiang Kui bristled at his evasion, swinging another punch. “Get lost!”
“Then I’ll take my leave.” Zhu Zian dodged her blow and headed out.
“Zhu Zian – come back here!” Jiang Kui stamped her foot, irked. “Hey! I’ve still a request for you!”
He glanced back. “What is it?”
“You’ve often claimed being a scholar…” Jiang Kui mused. “So you can compose essays, yes?”
Zhu Zian seemed briefly surprised. “I can.”
“There was an examination topic…something about two taxes, grain rations, wandering people…” Jiang Kui clutched her head, trying to recall.
Leaning on one long finger below his chin, Zhu Zian pondered shortly before asking: “Are you referring to homework from the Imperial Academy?”
“You actually know it?” Delighted, Jiang Kui clapped her hands. “So you truly studied there too?”
“Mm.” Zhu Zian nodded.
— He had, in fact, at the very same Scholarly Hall under the same teacher as her.
“Then will you help me write an essay responding to the assignment?” Jiang Kui pleaded urgently. “Don’t make it too excellent in case Teacher sees through it.”
After a brief hesitation Zhu Zian astoundingly agreed. “Very well.”
He added: “Then will you copy some Buddhist sutras for me in exchange?”
“Buddhist scriptures?” Jiang Kui was baffled.
“Just a short section on prayers for safety and wellbeing,” Zhu Zian clarified. “To mimic your handwriting for the essay I’ll naturally require samples. Simply leave the finished copy on your window ledge for me to secretly retrieve later.”
His reasoning made perfect sense so Jiang Kui nodded her assent.
At Zhu Zian’s departing back illuminated under the glittering sky, she couldn’t resist softly calling out: “Zhu Zian!”
His ink washed silhouette paused.
“Will I ever see your true face one day?” she asked.
“You shall.”
“When might that be?”
“Quite soon.”
He gently replied.
The next afternoon following lunch, Jiang Kui bid Xie Rong farewell with writing supplies in hand towards the library pavilions. The Imperial Academy archives held over two hundred thousand scrolls including countless Buddhist canons.
Having just promised submitting her neglected assignment in ten days, Jiang Kui now planned to locate appropriate scriptures for Zhu Zian to mimic her handwriting.
Rain had swept through at dawn leaving the noon sky still vaguely overcast. Lingering puddles reflected fragmented skies as Jiang Kui crossed the empty courtyard, water beads catching at her hems like strings of glittering stars.
Tucked in the academy’s northernmost corner, the library pavilion’s exterior saw little but bamboo below the endless stacks within.
It was divided into outer public and inner restricted areas. Myriad volumes filled the towering inner shelves while the outer section offered desks and stationery for reading and copying loans.
With classes ongoing and students absent, the library stood unattended now.
Only a half-drunk tea bowl marked one vacant sandalwood desk up front.
Pushing open the doors, Jiang Kui set her writing supplies on that outermost desk before striding into the formations of bookshelves seeking appropriate scriptures. But their sheer abundance soon left her disoriented and overwhelmed.
Shelf after shelf silently extended before her, paper exuding a faded scent. Small rosewood platforms for resting selections occupied each aisle. Lost amidst mounded oceans of scrolls, she blinked uncertain where to even start.
Yet across one bulging bookcase, she glimpsed a figure standing by anotherplatform.
Garbed in academy uniform, he leaned one arm against the shelves absorbed in a volume while more tomes lay opened and closed beside him, gilded pages tinted ochre in the hazy indoor light.
From his scholarly mien she assumed a student taking advantage of the empty halls to browse restricted archives in the rare afternoon calms.
Wary of disturbing his reading, after a moment’s hesitation Jiang Kui decided to tentatively inquire: “Excuse me, dear senior…might you advise where I may find Buddhist sutras?” She described her needs – “Some short scripture on prayers for safety and wellbeing.”
One book extended past the shelves, pointing helpfully down an aisle. “Just ahead, seventh column, fourth shelf.”
Jiang Kui thanked him, following the suggested direction and quickly discovering apt material. Hugging the slender canon, she returned to settle at the varnished front desk below overcast windows.
After wetting her brush, she paused thoughtfully staring at the open page.
Yesterday Zhu Zian had claimed she would soon glimpse his true semblance yet Jiang Kui harbored doubts about his assurances of “quite soon”. Just a month prior he had promised the same only for her to wait an age. This time such a vague time frame hardly inspired confidence.
It was strange developing such sudden curiosity having gone eight years without ever contemplating his countenance. That star-strewn night must have sparked the aberration with his strange question if she would care about his appearance.
Musing, she let ink bleed into a small dark pool before unconsciously brushing out the three characters of that name – Zhu Zian.
Pausing as the final strokes faded, she gazed perplexedly at the still wet characters.
She bit her lip, hesitating over just smearing them away before deciding that marring someone’s name seemed an inauspicious act.
After long moments of wavering uncertainty she sighed softly, leaving the name intact as a header above copied scripture lines. Her mediocre penmanship flowed awkwardly across the sheet in unsophisticated yet neatly regular columns, possessing its own awkward charm.
The afternoon hours stretched long. No sounds beyond turning pages and the faintest breaths whispered through the pavilion interspersed only by her scratching brush. Beyond sight range but not earshot, the nameless scholar continued reading amidst sea of words.
When weariness blurred Jiang Kui’s vision at last in the growing dusk, she returned the sutras to their shelves before bundling up her writing tools, turning to leave but not without a backwards glimpse first. The abandoned sandalwood desk’s tea bowl still awaited its drinker.
The young student by the shelves silently lifted his eyes from the pages to follow her retreating figure.
Only after the lamps were lit did he begin restoring his piled selections back onto the shelves. Approaching the window fronting empty courtyards as true night slowly unfurled, he remarked softly: “Luo eleven, clear the tea things.”
The white-clad page entered to tidy away the cooled tea remains within stacked trays.
Together they quit the premises towards the awaiting carriage at the outer gates. Bathed in sloped evening rays, the silent attendant stole occasional side glances at his pensive young master lost in thoughts.
The crown prince seems to be in rare fine moods today, mused Luo eleven.
Following a brief post-dinner respite in his private chambers, Prince Xie Wuyang summoned a selection of vibrantly vivid opera masks before settling amidst strewn paintbrushes with a single piece upon his knee, fine tip tracing ornate contours.
First he depicted the immaculate white face of a graceful dan role. Next he picked up a vivid chou mask of an idol or clown, vermillion with fiercely stylized features resembling a gnashing impish creature. Lazily dabbing for some time elicited a faint upturned smile.
“Your Highness, the copied scriptures,” announced Luo eleven entering with sheaves of scrolls.
Prince Xie set his work aside, standing to unroll them atop a prepared desk. Keeping the stacks neatly weighted beneath a carved paperweight, he shook his wide sleeves, lifting a brush as if to inscribe before abruptly freezing.
Right at the top, a small blurred ink blot marked the careful characters: Zhu Zian
He could vividly envision that earnest look of concentration creasing her youthful brow. A muted chuckle escaped him and he murmured: “Gratitude unto you.”
“Shall it be immediately delivered to the Penglai Palace once you finish the essay, Your Highness?” Luo Eleven politely asked.
“No rush,” came the casual reply as brush met paper in graceful flourishes.
And thus for ten straight days Jiang Kui copied scriptures only to wake and find them mysteriously replaced always by mere fragments of an essay. Tucked within wafted a familiar bold hand: “Ten pages for one sheet.”
Just why must this scoundrel shortchange her even in this? She fumed.
Their next meeting would definitely involve thorough reckoning – she was done forgiving such outrageous audacity!
Forced to spend her post-lesson hours in the library transcribing, she hardly managed exchanging even a few words in passing with Xie Rong. Yet without fail that bookish scholar perpetually inhabited the empty halls engrossed in texts amidst shelves.
On a curious whim Jiang Kui stole occasional glimpses at his obscured form. Through piled tomes she could vaguely distinguish a striking side profile.
He was a graceful youth with long tapered fingers holding scrolls, his elongated silhouette against the racks marked by stillness. Other than occasionally turning pages, barely any movements disturbed the profound solitude wreathing them both as he read on oblivious to her presence.
Yet she still wondered – just how can anyone so adore reading?
In those overcast afternoons, hazy beams spilled into the scroll-sea around them. Silence carried an almost tangible presence echoing through the hall’s embrace.
On the eleventh day Jiang Kui finally received a complete essay draft from Zhu Zian. Delighted, she raced to present it soon as their teacher arrived.
Accepting her submission placed atop his lectern, Teacher Chang Rong silently scanned the sheets with a slight frown. Jiang Kui observed anxiously trying to discern his reaction.
Shortly he lifted his eyes meeting her own before letting the matter rest without commentary.
Relief flooded Jiang Kui returning to her desk – she had Fulfilled her promise at last! Zhu Zian could be an awful scoundrel but at least proved reliable in the end.
After class Xie Rong excitedly grabbed her hand. “Why aren’t you headed to the scriptorium today?”
“Assignment already turned in, no need to continue.” Jiang Kui briskly responded. She certainly had no intentions copying anything more for that undeserving swindler!
“You’ve been so busy these past days I’d nearly forgot to ask,” Xie Rong exclaimed. “How are you and my brother getting along lately?”
This nonsequitur query left Jiang Kui blinking confusedly. “Pardon?”
“Haven’t you spent the past days in the archives? I heard Xie Wuyang has also frequented the library often so surely your paths must have crossed!”
“I supposed so…” Jiang Kui mused, remembering that scholar youth.
Garbed in unassuming academic robes unlike a crown prince’s crimson court finery, she had never considered him her betrothed. Their only substantial interaction comprised his pointing her to suitable material before retiring silently to the shelves, aromatic rosewood desk bearing piles of opened weighty tomes.
Only in retrospective hindsight did she realize her unexpected rendezvous with Prince Xie Wuyang himself.
On the tranquil afternoon of the seventh day of the eighth moon, Jiang Kui rose at dawn and pattered barefoot to her latticed window left halfway open. A long bundle swathed in undyed linen slumped just outside, layers of cloth tightly shrouding the hidden weapon within.
Lifting a corner of wrapping revealed a icy gleam within.
She was to infiltrate Tonghua Gate at the lower city walls that very night. Deeming potential danger at the undisclosed meeting site, Zhu Zian suggested bringing her favored arm for self-defense. Thus over recent days his assistant Luo Eleven had arranged a covert visit to her barrack quarters. Passing Jiang Kui’s explanatory letter to her handmaiden Qing’er, her spear was successfully smuggled into the palace.
Securing the spear beneath her bedding, Jiang Kui straightened her attire preparing for morning lectures.
Upon Teacher Chang Rong’s arrival at hall, he summoned Jiang Kui forward – to return her submitted essay now covered in extensive commentary down to lists of recommended references at the conclusion.
As class progressed Jiang Kui could barely concentrate on lecture, thoroughly distracted mulling whether she ought to pass these meticulous revisions for Zhu Zian’s review…just picturing that rogue’s likely expression made her smother an involuntary snort.
…On second thought, she would not be relaying these edits.
“Dearest imperial sister!” As expected after lessons ended, a bright glint sparked in Xie Rong’s smile bespeaking forthcoming mischief.
Having grown familiar with the princess’s tells, Jiang Kui dutifully played along asking: “What intrigues might my imperial sister wish to share?”
“Remember our last eastern palace excursion plucking lotus roots?” Xie Rong asked slyly.
Indeed, quite unforgettable events had transpired then…
“Ever since security patrol routines were changed! Yet just yesterday I finally deciphered their new schedule!” Xie Rong bubbled excitedly. “My imperial junior sister – shall we harvest the last season’s lotuses this afternoon? That annoying Wuyang has been oddly protective of his pond this year, even barring my entry!”
How close the two girls had become without pretense! No more veiled excuses of visiting the crown prince himself on Xie Rong’s part; she directly named her craving for his prized lotuses.
Just then a round head popped from the window ledges–
“Might I join along this foray?” Still in academy uniform, Prince Xie Kuan’s loose robes swelled suspiciously, likely smuggling those fortune-telling slips.
“Certainly! We’ll depart after our noon meal!” Xie Rong clapped joyfully, tugging Jiang Kui outside.
The three youths shared rushed dining hall fare before navigating the imperial grounds skirting the emperor’s private hunting parks towards the crown prince’s eastern palace and its renowned lotus pond sanctuary. Pausing at an unassuming vermillion side entrance, Xie Rong cautioned: “I’ll scout ahead first! Wait here!”
Before either could respond, she had already bunched up her skirt slipping furtively inside, abandoning the other two to awkward silence.
Having little friendly rapport, at a loss Jiang Kui and Xie Kuan simply stood shuffling about uncomfortably.
…Quite some time passed while birds twittered loudly.
…More awkward moments passed while birds continued chirping loudly in the forest.
“Imperial sister-in-law,” Xie Kuan finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “Did you have lessons at the Academy today?”
“I did,” Jiang Kui attempted conversation after racking her brains. “Did you as well?”
“I did too.”
“…”
…The birds somehow grew even noisier.
With Xie Rong still not returning, a thoroughly bored Xie Kuan recounted the birds overhead multiple times before finally striking upon a new topic: “Imperial sister-in-law, how about I perform another divination for you?”
Though not particularly desiring this, Jiang Kui was desperate for any distraction. “Go ahead then.”
Xie Kuan removed his bundle of yarrow sticks from within voluminous sleeves, solemnly scattering them about while mumbling Mystically as if a fortune teller at work. He took an absurd amount of time slowly manipulating them into a lopsided hexagram before announcing: “Darkening clouds, Mountain over Gorge. Danger below mountain, but impasse.”
“What does that signify?” Jiang Kui asked.
“The imagery depicts a spring flowing from a mountain’s base, waters below mountain above – obscured and unclear. Indications of danger but also opportunity, like a newfound spring’s first gush that, once breaching its peak may stream into a vast river network…” Xie Kuan elaborated, focusing intently on interpreting the divination.
His steady voice soon animated the cryptic symbols – lofty clouds swirling around peaking summits, a tiny isolated pool trembling as the first upwelling bubble bursts forth “plop!” scattering into stony crevices.
At that moment Xie Rong finally returned smiling brightly. “All clear ahead! Let’s away to pluck lotus roots!”
Seeing relief flood Jiang Kui and Xie Kuan’s faces, she looked bemused. “Whatever were you two up to?”
“Oh nothing much,” Jiang Kui pulled her hand gratefully. “We simply rejoice at your timely return, imperial sister!”
Xie Kuan lifted his gentle cherubic face. “We would be quite lost without you here, imperial sister!”
The trio stealthily slipped past gates into the crown prince’s eastern palace sanctuary. Xie Rong directed Xie Kuan gathering lotuses from the pond while she and Jiang Kui received the harvested bundles ashore.
Before long a small mountain of mud-caked tubers and rhizome clusters had amassed. Settling together along the bank the girls shelled and snacked while Xie Rong regaled Jiang Kui with childhood stories about Xie Wuyang, Xie Kuan occasionally interjecting.
That day clouds swirled, winds whistled, the scene ever-fluid…
Yet Jiang Kui gradually realized the crown prince himself never emerged.
The curved crescent moon on the eighth night of the eighth month resembled a taut bow.
In the deepest hours before dawn, Prince Xie Wuyang donned an ink black cloak sweeping from his private chambers. Moonbeams like liquid silver spilled over his shoulders, seemingly baptizing him under a mantle of shimmering snowflakes.
“Ready the coach, Luo Eleven,” he murmured. “We depart for Tonghua Gate by the hour of the tiger.”
A white-lined black canopy coach awaited by a discreet side entrance. The dark-clad youth guided his master aboard before urging the carriage forth, its receding hoofbeats swallowed swiftly into obscure darkness.
At the Penglai Palace a shadowy figure bundled in plain clothes slipped out clutching linen-swaddled bundles, face obscured by veils fluttering briefly in her wake. Toes grazing earth she sped forth, disappearing like quicksilver beneath the vast and silent stars.
Tonghua Gate connected the imperial and outermost city walls just south of the royal hunting parks, an inconspicuous portal rarely used by insignificant traffic. Paint flecked and faded vermillion pillars framed the deteriorating marble nameplate.
Jiang Kui clearly recalled nearly drowning by this very gate when tossed into waters after being initially conveyed into the palace.
Whoever conversed here must relate to the shadowy orchestrator of her assassination attempts.
Light as air she vaulted up a towering locust tree, concealing herself amidst dense foliage while carefully unveiling just a sliver of spearpoint glittering cold and bright beneath the leaves’ dance.
The waning moon slowly fell towards slumbering horizons. An expanse of dark clouds sailed across the skies stretching a wide swath of shadows onto the earth below.
Two figures emerged from the forested hunting grounds walking abreast, the first in purple ministerial robes and the latter in nondescript black. Halting before the dilapidated gate plaque, they paused to salute one another prior to muted conversation nearly inaudible from Jiang Kui’s distant perch.
She could barely discern the hoarse tones of the black-clad man: “Does Your Highness fare well tonight?”
His cultured address took Jiang Kui aback. Just who might this possibly be?
“Nine thousand silver taels towards elimination of Prince Xie Heng,” the first noble personage stated coolly. “Can this commission be fulfilled by your hands or no?”
Veiled within that melodious timbre echoed innate nobility and haughty arrogance. Jiang Kui swiftly placed the voice – she had heard the very same propose toasts during the Autumn Day banquet!
Prince Qi, Xie Mo! So all tangled threads now lay plainly exposed…
It must be Prince Qi orchestrating attempts on both Jiang Kui and Prince Xie Heng’s lives, as the pair symbolized Crown Prince allies.
Her near drowning occurred the same day of betrothal to the crown prince. As sole heiress to an eminent military lineage carefully maintaining political neutrality, general’s house backing would significantly bolster the Crown Prince’s faction. It seemed conceivable Prince Qi’s associates aimed obstructing this alliance with assassination.
While initially suspecting Prince Qi partisans targeting her, Jiang Kui never imagined the Prince of Qi himself outright commanded events! Still, recalling Qiu Yue serving her drugged wines that tumultuous banquet night before the attack connected all clues perfectly logical.
If Prince Xie Mo desired her dead, who then was this black-robed man?
The recently risen underworld broker “Old Whitehead” spoken of by Ah Rong?
She clarified two unique brokers operated locally: Pu Liu the bookshop keeper dealt solely in court intrigues while this new shadowy figure handled underground tasks, both consciously avoiding overlap. Logically “Old Whitehead’s” operations deeply entangled in court factions marked close ties with Prince Qi Xie Mo evident by such midnight assignations.
Their decibels dropped further still – Jiang Kui strained nearer hoping to overhear full context.
“Before further discussing this commission, Your Highness…”
Wind stirred leaves whispering as the hoarse tones drifted upwards, now curling with sardonic amusement: “I’ve a little sparrow to snare first.”
Jiang Kui jolted violently in alarm, spear gripped tight!
She had taken utmost care concealing herself – even the slightest disturbances ought go unnoticed by mortal senses! This stranger’s casual remark proved his mastery vastly exceeded her own!
Rustling robes marked the black garbed man striding calmly before abruptly disappearing beneath the ancient gate! Instantly heavy footsteps pounded up the locust trunk towards Jiang Kui flanked by a great sweeping saber cleave intent on splitting her cleanly in twain from beneath!
The wide heavy blade reflected glints of starfire. She braced the surprise attack with her spear aloft. A deafening clang pealed through the stillness, evenly matched forces momentarily numbing both combatants’ sword arms upon impact. Rustling wings marked panicked birds taking flight amidst this deathly exchange, steel singing with fierce intensity against her long spear shaft.
The assassin scoffed softly. Grasping his vibrating sword with both hands, he pressed downwards with even greater strength!
In the next breath…her spear shattered!
Muffling a pained gasp, Jiang Kui felt herself plunging through notingness alongside broken spear halves, boxed helplessly in freefall!
Her opponent easily ricocheted off the trunk, effortlessly transferring his sword to the left hand while extending an open right palm. Fierce qi coalesced about the hand, powerful shockwaves churning directly below towards the plummeting girl!
Suspended midair, Jiang Kui desperately twisted parallel to the ground, bracing with her broken spear against the crushing blow!
Abruptly the foreboding jungle night tore apart under frantic galloping thunder. Someone vaulted from an concealed carriage, crossing the vast intervening distance in a single breath to catch Jiang Kui’s light form.
Effortlessly he met the assassin’s deadly qi assault with his own sharp rebuttal!
Their colliding shockwaves cracked the air itself, forceful gales churning wildly to bowl surrounding fauna.
Jiang Kui’s rescuer coughed harshly. Still embracing the limp girl he retreated dozens of staggered paces before gravity reasserted its grip.
An awful splintering announced his face mask fracturing. Twin shard remnants fluttered amidst the leafy carpet followed by glimpses of his true mien as opportune stars illuminated fine features.
Leveling frigid yet defiant eyes he held the assassin’s thunderstruck gaze unflinching.
“I do not recognize this face…” the hoarse voice echoed ominously. “Who might you be?”
Rather than permit response, he rapidly closed distance with murder engraved onto stormy features. Effortlessly halving the intervening space between blinks, his saber sang promises of brutal death!
Zhu Zian turned and fled without battle. Carrying Jiang Kui he shouted: “Eleven! To my side!” before bundling her into the awaiting carriage bounding forward to hastily dive within after depositing the ailing girl onto cushioned seats.
The coachman Luo Eleven immediately abandoned his station to confront their pursuer, curved sword singing out from black robes to parry the assassin’s relentless heavysword!
Both blades shrieked vitriolic fury against each other. Luo Eleven’s sword grip grew slick with blood but still he persevered. Gathering mighty strength, he desperately deflected the deadlocked standstill before breaking away, lightly vaulting over horse reins. One hand snatched the whip, instantly spurring the beasts onwards.
“Hyah!”
Hooves pounded matted earth as their small craft navigated dense woods.
From within Zhu Zian’s voice rang out steadfastly: “Tiger thirty! Shift eighty degrees ram!” Despite merely traveling by foot, somehow the uncanny assassin matched their carriage speed, barely failing to gradually narrow proximity.
Responding swiftly, Luo Eleven ceaselessly spurred their tiring mounts ever faster through disorienting evasive patterns intended to finally shake off tenacious pursuit.
Eventually their headlong race eased into smooth unhurried trotting.
Within Zhu Zian stifled harsh coughs, weakly sagging against silk pillows utterly spent.
Jiang Kui anxiously studied his pallid complexion from her bench opposite, heart clenching inexplicably. One hand extended towards him when slender fingers swiftly arrested further intrusion, lightly encircling her wrist. Though wan and drained, his responding smile soothed her: “I’m fine.”
Bandaged hands still blocked deeper inspection so she futilely strained against his gentle yet unbreakable hold, worry slowly morphing into indignance: “Foolish Zhu Zian! Just why withstand that blow in my stead? My skills suffice deflecting most attacks without injury or aid!”
“I’m aware,” he acknowledged mildly.
“Then why—”
“No reason in particular.” His nonsensical response left her nonplussed.
“Ridiculous fool Jiang Xiaoman,” Zhu Zian grinned, mockery dancing within tired eyes. “Can you really still see me as merely some foppish dilettante? Then tell me how I’ve thrived all these years!”
His provoking words hit home. Wrenching herself from his clasp, Jiang Kui crossed both arms stiffly looking aside.
“And you shouldn’t have blocked either – I could easily intercept that strike. However strong, you’re still weaker than me. Getting yourself hurt trying vain heroics would just mean more unpaid indenture in compensation, wouldn’t it!”
“A fair point,” Zhu Zian pondered, stroking his chin. “Since I shielded your blow perhaps the debt warrants yet another year’s service?”
Jiang Kui whirled back, irately countering: “That was your own choice – nothing to do with me!”
“Quite right,” he amiably conceded. “All my own fault.”
Another strained cough left his face even more ashen and worn, yet smiles never faltered even as strength increasingly deserted him – trailing words grew wispy and faint as if dissolving into the very air.
“Are you truly alright?” Worry won out as she scrutinized him closely.
“Never better,” Zhu Zian beamed back. “Worried about me now?”
“As if!” She huffed dismissively, turning away once more.
The instant her gaze averted Zhu Zian succumbed to suppressed coughs. Raising one hand he rapped the carriage frame calling towards their driver: “Luo Eleven! First the Penglai Palace to return Young Mistress Jiang.”
But Jiang Kui also knocked loudly in rebuke: “No, make for Changle Ward!”
Bemused, Zhu Zian glanced over. “Whatever for?”
“To find Master Shen the apothecary of course!” She retorted. “Barring my attempts alleviating your condition, prudence still dictates seeking appropriate physicians.”
“Penglai Palace it is, Luo Eleven,” Zhu Zian called again, ignoring her outburst.
“Changle Ward! Now!” Jiang Kui insisted unyielding.
Before Zhu Zian could respond, Luo Eleven’s calm tones sounded from ahead: “We’re already well on our way to Changle at Mistress Jiang’s behest.”
Incensed, Zhu Zian bit back: “So you heed her over my commands now!”
“Mistress Jiang speaks rightly, sir. You’ve urgent need of doctors.”
Smugness graced Jiang Kui seeing Zhu Zian so transparently sulking into silent acceptance of his circumstances. Unexpected delight swelled within at this insignificant victory, lips quirking with feline satisfaction.
Yet abrupt realization then tempered her cheer. Over the years middlemen reputations portrayed them solely as faceless disseminators of intelligence and intermediaries between contractors and hired blades.
After all what sane individual would personally involve themselves during murders they themselves orchestrated? Beyond life-threatening folly, active presence ruined carefully constructed anonymity vital towards conducting shadowy business.
Even the illustrious Master Pu Liu solely appeared when brokering deals.
However…in earlier years undertaking certain distasteful commissions, upon task completion she occasionally perceived phantom hoofbeats trailing her in the remote distance.
The minute auditory hallucinations were easily dismissed as distortions of a weary mind, or just random passerby carriages.
But what if Zhu Zian had always lingered just within sight?
For years, watching from that white and black coach as she drew weapon and fulfilled her hits.
Yet if he constantly surveyed her thusly…why the secrecy? Why not reveal himself directly long before?
“Zhu Zian—” She began turning to question him.
Large eyes blinked rapidly flustered at the scene that greeted her.
Zhu Zian slumped exhausted against plush cabins, motionless with closed eyes seemingly completely out cold. His head lolled onto one shoulder, angles softened by gentle starlight sifting through cracks between swaying curtains to pool gently on his elegant profiled countenance.
Something inexplicably painful and poignant stirred her then – as if pricked by a fine needle’s tip.
“Hey…” she whispered anxiously inspecting him. “Are you quite alright?”
Inches away from testing his breaths, the trundling carriage jolted over uneven roads. Zhu Zian’s body pitched forward as he slowly toppled sideways into her, head coming to rest perfectly against shoulders. Seemingly he had lapsed into deep comatose state, his cool skin and feathering exhalations faintly stirring her hair.
Half-extending one arm to support him, for some reason she found herself surprisingly immobilized thusly.
Something mysteriously profound moved her then – akin to crystalline spring waters inexorably finding crags and cracks swelling forth in glimmering streams.
Yet no less mesmerizing or beautiful for its unexpectedness.
Table of Contents | Next Chapter
Leave a Reply