In that fleeting moment as the rosy glow vanished completely, the endless deep blue flooded across the sky. His gaze was as still as the waters.
Resting her cheek in hand, she looked at him: “I thought you were going to say again that you’ll be leaving soon.”
He gave a soft laugh and shook his head: “How about leaving after another year?”
“Then next year’s winter solstice I’ll ask you again, and you’ll put it off for yet another year,” she mused and then smiled. “Year after year after year, and you won’t be able to leave.”
He lazily said: “Then I won’t be able to leave, all well and good.”
The rim of the sky shifted from azure to darker and darker shades. Bright stars emerged one after another, spilling down amidst the glittering roof tiles.
Jiang Kui finished that jug of wine and turned to look at Zhu Zi’an, only to find him propped up on one elbow with his head resting in his hand, eyes quietly closed as his head lolled to the side, already fast asleep.
She knocked his head. He didn’t stir at all, his entire body emitting a faint alcoholic fragrance.
She sighed: “Zhu Zi’an, you really cannot hold your liquor.”
“Young Hero Jiang!” Imperial Physician Shen called from the eaves below. “Has he passed out drunk?”
Jiang Kui nudged the person beside her. He let out a soft “hmm” without opening his eyes or waking. She leaned in closer to listen to his breathing, smelling nothing but drunkness amidst that blurry yet clear scent.
Having made her judgment she shouted down towards the eaves: “Out cold from drink!”
“Then toss him down!” Shen yelled back loudly.
“…Huh?” Jiang Kui blinked, not knowing what this guy had done again to provoke Imperial Physician Shen.
“Don’t mind him, Young Hero Jiang,” Lu Eleven leapt onto the rooftop and handed Jiang Kui an overcoat. His tone was calm: “That’s how Imperial Physician Shen is. Hear his words backwards.”
Hearing this, Shen let out a cold snort under the eaves.
Jiang Kui accepted the overcoat from Lu Eleven’s hands and carefully wrapped Zhu Zi’an in it.
He was sleeping deeply, allowing her to maneuver him around. That refined, handsome youth’s face was buried under the pitch-black overcoat. His slightly curled lashes drooped down as his jet black hair accentuated the tranquility of his sleeping countenance.
Lu Eleven and Jiang Kui supported him on either side, jumping down from the rooftop and landing on the open yard in the backyard. Head hanging, half his body leaned against Jiang Kui. Both the clean alcoholic scent and cool white plum fragrance fell into her embrace.
Shen swept his eyes over Zhu Zi’an coldly, curtly ordering: “Drag him away!”
He took the wine jug from Jiang Kui’s hand, hefting it and giving a loud snort: “Passed out from just one jug. And he still dares to drink?”
“Actually, I drank most of it,” Jiang Kui said in a small voice.
Shen was stunned for a second before pondering: “Looks like next time no need to give him such strong liquor…just a waste of my good wine.”
Lu Eleven supported Zhu Zi’an as they went inside, Shen following on their heels with long strides.
The wooden door slammed shut. Candlelight flickered alight through the window gauze.
Jiang Kui stood frozen in place, blinking with curiosity over just what that guy did to provoke the eccentric Imperial Physician Shen.
The next clear dawn, autumn light fell upon the studying girl’s shoulders.
She was wholly focused on a sketch in front of her when someone walked over from behind without her notice, draping an overcoat over her.
“You’re awake?” She didn’t even lift her head. “You got really drunk last night.”
Zhu Zi’an was stunned: “How drunk was I…I didn’t do anything too out of line, did I?”
“You did, very out of line things,” she said, head lowered as she wrote. “First you fell off the roof, then you danced under the tree. After that you ran three laps around Changhe Lane…”
Listening on, his complexion grew worse and worse until he fell silent for a bit. “…Really?”
“Made up,” she answered lazily.
“Very funny, Jiang Xiaoman,” he laughed in exasperation. “When did you learn to talk like this?”
“Just now,” she laughed as she turned to look at him. “Feeling better?”
“Not much,” he grumbled with a black face.
She pulled him to sit by her side and patted his head: “You’ve been in low spirits these days.”
“Too much going on,” he said. “A bit tired.”
“Then sleep some more,” she looked at him. “I’ll handle arranging the prison breakout.”
She laughed again: “After all I’m better at fighting than you.”
He leaned forward, flipping through the papers on the desk. Propping his elbow he turned to look at her: “Tell me about the plans then. I’m all ears.”
“The execution time is at noon when daylight is strongest. Three hundred Divine Tiger Guards will escort the prisoners through the West Market to parade them before the public. This is when foot traffic is busiest, best for hiding amidst the crowds to act.”
She slowly went on, fingers moving across the sketch: “We can disguise ourselves as riffraff and mix into the West Market crowds… I was just thinking about what signal to use for issuing orders.”
“There’s a municipal office in West Market with public drums struck three hundred times to announce noon opening,” he pondered, chin on hand. “Use that as the signal?”
She nodded, making another stroke on the sketch: “Act on the drums.”
“When the drums sound, Elder Yuan will lead the Beggar Sect members to rush forth and grab the people then run. Follow East-West Avenue and rush into Drum Tower Square,” he said, looking down at her writing. “I can ready a carriage with Lu Eleven by Drum Tower to leave immediately upon their arrival.”
“Then switch people three times through Children’s Lane, Zhu Residence Lane, and Vegetable Market,” she traced a complex route on the sketch. “And finally hide them temporarily in Changhe Lane.”
After finalizing plans, Zhu Zi’an laughed: “Really like storybooks.”
“You really enjoy reading storybooks so much?” She tilted her head looking at him.
“Not only reading, I write them too,” he gave a faint smile and took half a step back, solemnly reciting: “It is said that mighty warrior ‘Falling Flowers Silver Spear’ Jiang dashes valiantly into Northern Beggar Sect Leader’s eightieth birthday wine reception with but a single…”
“So those chaotic things Teacher Qinghe tells were written by you!” She grabbed an inkstone preparing to smash him with it, fuming: “I knew it was some nonsense people were spreading!”
“But you like listening, don’t you?” He dodged backwards.
So angry that strands of hair were in disarray, while he laughed hard, bent over at the waist. “Now I’m feeling better,” he said.
They stayed continuously in Changhe Lane for many days.
Every dawn Jiang Kui practiced her spear, then discussed prison breakout plans with everyone. Afternoons she returned to Eastern Palace to handle affairs, coming back to Changhe Lane again before dinner to continue busying about. Ah Rong always prepared ample fragrant meals for all. Extremely skilled in cooking, she continuously changed up the varieties.
Zhu Zi’an didn’t directly participate much in the planning, only going over things with Jiang Kui every night after people retired. Occasionally he would offer some suggestions. He spent most of his time shut in his room, claiming to be “busy with some matters.” However, these days of interaction seemed to have somewhat softened Imperial Physician Shen’s attitude towards him.
The two bid each other good morning every dawn, and good night every evening. Sometimes they would stand chatting for a while between their facing rooms until the Milky Way rose with the glittering stars spilling down onto them. Zhu Zi’an would give a yawn to say good night then turn to enter his room.
In a daze, it felt as if days like these could go on endlessly.
The day before setting out for the prison breakout, the square courtyard was crammed full of people.
The north wind howled. Silent in the yard with only gusts of wind and breathing interweaving in and out. Jiang Kui stood before the crowd, doing final confirmations on personnel arrangements for the breakout. Zhu Zi’an wore an overcoat as he leaned against the doorway, raising his eyes silently to watch her.
She stood tall facing the wind. Brows like gentle blades, her deep red dress outlined clear and slender lines. Jet black hair twisted up high spilled down like a practiced whip. That lithe figure was as crisp as an erect spear swaying in the wind.
“West Fourth Street, a hundred eighty paces, who stands guard here?” She called loudly.
Elder Yuan took a step forward, cupping fists in reply: “This old man leads twenty brothers here.”
“Sixth Street, tail end of Children’s Lane, who stands guard here?” Jiang Kui continued asking.
Ah Rong placidly answered: “My charge.”
“Eighth Street, Vegetable Market entrance.”
Iron Master nodded: “I’m here.”
“Drum Tower Tavern.” Jiang Kui looked to Bai Ying. “Little Bai?”
“Ready for action!” Bai Ying gave a light and airy holler, weighing the huge mace in her hand. She shouted brightly with laughter: “Bring it on!”
“And lastly is under Drum Tower.” Jiang Kui’s gaze crossed over the crowd to meet Zhu Zi’an’s in midair, both pairs quietly converging.
“Good.” Zhu Zi’an dipped his head towards her. “My carriage will be there with Lu Eleven as coachman.”
“Take the drums as signal. Remember, act on the third beat, finish upon the three hundredth,” Jiang Kui said, turning to look at the crowd. “Understood?”
“Yes ma’am!” everyone shouted in unison.
After Jiang Kui confirmed over the plans one by one, she dismissed the crowd and returned to the back room to review the oft-redrawn map again.
Zhu Zi’an followed her inside, standing by her side silently watching for a while.
She frowned, pondering deeply with utmost sincerity. Slender, fair fingers passed over the rough paper. Fingertips gently pressed down then lifted back up in sharp yet lithe motions.
When she put the map away and sat leaning on the desk, he brought over a cup of hot tea, laughing softly behind her: “Jiang Xiaoman, you seemed like a little general back there commanding everyone outside.”
“I did?” She shook her head. “Actually I’m really anxious inside.”
“I know,” he reached to ruffle her hair. “It’s alright, I’m here with you.”
His fingertips had just brushed her hair when her lashes gave a light flutter. She pushed his hand away and took a step back to stare at him, displeased: “Don’t touch my hair.”
He was stunned for a bit, confused: “…Why? I clearly touched it before.”
“Because you caught me unprepared the first time, and I was drunk the second time,” she huffed. “No more touching from now on.”
“But…” his tone fell. “You let other people touch.”
“So what if family and friends get to touch,” she gave a loud humph. “Obviously they can.”
“Aren’t I family or friend?” He was baffled. “You said we were good friends. And as martial siblings, that makes us family too right?”
“You’re not one,” she lifted her face arrogantly to order him. “No touching!”
He sighed heavily: “Orders received…General.”
Then he smiled at her again: “I actually quite like your commanding style.”
He pondered for a bit: “Fierce yet fun.”
Somewhat irked, she reached to hit him. He laughed while dodging for a while before capturing her wrist and dragging her to the back room for dinner.
The square table was already fully laid out with piping hot dishes, six sets of bowls and chopsticks all tidy and pristine. Shen swept his cold eyes over Zhu Zi’an, making him immediately become the model of obedience as he went to serve rice.
Today Ah Rong had made fish soup again, using the famously delicious carp from the Wei River that she had rushed to purchase fresh from the morning market. She prepared one pot with clear broth and one pot with thick, stuffing spices inside the fish belly before sprinkling lightly with white salt. Faint wafts of fish fragrance emitted from the great ceramic pot, warm and tender, making one’s index finger tingle to dig in.
Little Chen brought out another jug of wine. Lu Eleven flat out rejected while Ah Rong herself uncharacteristically drank a little. Jiang Kui took a small bowl while Zhu Zi’an buried his head drinking soup under Imperial Physician Shen’s gaze.
After the meal everyone bid their good nights, retiring to rest in preparation for tomorrow’s major operation.
It rained lightly late at night. Silvery streams of water droplets leapt up from the muddy earth, pattering down like beans.
Zhu Zi’an carried a small lantern that he set atop the desk, lowering his head to flip open a slightly yellowed book. Just then he heard low knocking sounds from outside the door.
He threw on an overcoat, grabbed the lantern and got up to open the door.
The visitor was a girl dressed in snowy white sleepwear, holding up a bamboo paper umbrella with lowered head.
“So you can’t fall asleep either?” He said softly. “Worried about tomorrow?”
He took her umbrella, leading her inside. He slowly brewed a pot of hot tea as she sat beside him watching his hands’ motions blankly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he passed her the tea. “Things will work out.”
“Zhu Zi’an,” she gazed down at the water reflecting the candlelight in her cup. “What have you been waiting for these days?”
He froze for a second, lowering his eyes. “So you noticed.”
“I know something’s been on your mind,” she said softly. “There’s been subtle movements from the High Court dungeons yet it remains unspoken. From the documents passed to Eastern Palace I roughly pieced some things together…Zhu Zi’an, do you know anything?”
Her eyes stared fixedly at his face. He sighed again, setting down the tea things as he looked at the rippling tea water, speaking in a low voice: “I saw your eldest brother.”
“He…left the High Court dungeons?”
“He said to consider him gone from now on,” Zhu Zi’an murmured. “There will no longer be someone called Jiang Danshan after this.”
The rain poured down heavily.
Within the smithy, Bai Ying couldn’t fall asleep either as she sat gazing out the window at the deluge.
Silvery rain fell in sheets from the eaves, sending up countless pearl-like splashes at the window that pattered heavily onto the ground in scattered glittery flecks of light.
Amidst the interweaving sounds of wind and rain, she suddenly heard knocking at the door.
That knocking was gentle and refined, sounding one low beat after another indistinctly through the rain’s din.
She lit a lantern and hurried to open the door.
“Creak—” the sight of the visitor made her look up.
He stood straight in the rain without an umbrella, bangs hanging low to veil his eyes yet his scholarly refinement still elegant and mild. Rain had completely drenched his plain clothes, outlining his thin, almost haggard figure. He reeked of blood while horrifying wounds covered his body.
“…Eldest Young Master Jiang?”
“…Miss Bai.”
His voice was hoarse.
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