Before Xiahou Lian’s stunned eyes, she had transformed into a man.
“You—you’re Qiu-dage!”
The Kinnara, Qiu Ye, was one of the Eight Legions of the Garden. Xiahou Lian had often seen him in the mountains. Qiu Ye was amiable; he was usually the first person Xiahou Lian and his mother begged for food.
Suddenly, Xiahou Lian wondered whether Qiu Ye’s blade was the man’s famous Qiushui.
Who could’ve imagined that his first meeting with Qiu Ye away from the mountain would be so…complicated? For a long time, Xiahou Lian was speechless.
“Hm. You didn’t know my special talents.” Qiu Ye flashed Xiahou Lian a radiant smile. “My family’s secret techniques are bone-shrinking and disguise.”
“I’ve only heard about them. The descriptions…truly don’t do them justice,” Xiahou Lian said, mouth agape.
Qiu Ye kindly helped Xiahou Lian close his mouth, saying with a smile, “To think I’d meet you in a place like this. What a fateful encounter. My Qiushui almost killed you just now.”
Xiahou Lian didn’t respond. He could really have done without such a fateful encounter.
“Xiao-Lian,” Qiu Ye continued, “I can sense your extraordinary talent. If your mother happens to meet her end in the Western Regions, come find me. Become my disciple, and I’ll teach you my techniques. Then you can charm and seduce all the women and men you wish. What do you say?”
Hell no. He didn’t want to end up some kind of half-man, half-woman thing!
Xiahou Lian shook his head like a rattle drum.
Qiu Ye sighed in disappointment and flicked Xiahou Lian’s head. “You little brat. You can’t appreciate the benefits of this ability. Others beg me to teach them, and I still refuse.”
“I’ll stick to swordsmanship,” Xiahou Lian insisted. His image of Qiu Ye as a kindly older brother had been shattered. Even speaking to him was awkward now. “I can conquer the world with my saber alone; I don’t need your help. Besides, I have no doubt my mother will come back safely.”
“You haven’t even got a proper saber. How will you conquer the world?”
“I’ll get a proper one eventually,” Xiahou Lian muttered. “Why are you here, Qiu-dage? Did someone hire you to kill that guy? He looks familiar—is that the Xie manor’s steward?”
“Have you forgotten Qiye Garden’s rules? We work independently, and we never get involved with each other. Go back to bed. When I have time, I’ll find you, and then we can have some fun together.”
“Mm-hmm...”
Xiahou Lian left the study, glancing back every few steps. He desperately wanted to ask Qiu Ye how he’d fooled the steward into believing that he was a woman.
Weren’t men and women built differently? Were those paintings all lies?
But, in the end, Xiahou Lian couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Qiu Ye watched Xiahou Lian leave, then pulled another mask from his robe and slid it on. He stripped the dead man and put on his clothes, then wiped Xiahou Lian’s footprints from the windowsill. The scene now clean, Qiu Ye closed the door and carried the corpse away.
Anyone passing at that moment would’ve been terror-struck, for the living man carrying the corpse looked exactly like the dead body itself.
Xiahou Lian returned to Qiuwu Courtyard in a daze. As he opened the door, he saw Xie Jinglan sitting beside his bed, wrapped in a blanket and nodding off.
Xiahou Lian’s heart nearly leapt from his chest. How long had Xie Jinglan been waiting there?
Xie Jinglan rubbed his eyes and looked up, saying groggily, “Where did you go? Why are you coming back so late?”
“I went to the latrine.”
Xie Jinglan looked at him suspiciously. “What took you so long? Are you constipated or something? Too much yang energy?”
“Maybe a little,” Xiahou Lian lied guiltily, then pushed him aside. “Why were you sitting here? I’m going to sleep.”
Xie Jinglan stood for a moment, hesitating. “It’s...cold outside. Want to come sleep in the inner chamber?”
“Cold? There are two braziers in here.” Xiahou Lian looked at Xie Jinglan’s conflicted expression and suddenly understood. “You’re scared to sleep alone?”
“You’re the one who’s scared! I’ve always slept alone.” But Dai-xiansheng had been telling a lot of ghost stories…
Xiahou Lian already knew the truth, but for the sake of Xie Jinglan’s dignity, he chose not to voice it. He obediently picked up his pillow and blanket, then gently nudged Xie Jinglan back to the inner chamber.
“It is chilly outside. Let’s go.”
With Xiahou Lian in the room, Xie Jinglan immediately felt much more at ease. The rain had stopped, and the darkness was quiet. He could hear Xiahou Lian’s breathing and the occasional rustle as the other boy turned in bed.
“Are you asleep, Shaoye?” Xiahou Lian asked softly.
“Not yet.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“If an official were caught forming a cabal, what kind of punishment would he face?”
“With friends come cliques. Scholars often don’t get along, and they’ll form alliances against each other based on their teacher or region. The Niu, Li, Zhe, Hui, and other factions were all the same. The severity of the punishment would depend on whom they’d allied with and what private interests they’d pursued.”
“Um...” Xiahou Lian pondered for a while, racking his brain for how to phrase his question.
“Whom they’d allied with”? He certainly couldn’t bring up Xie Bingfeng and his gang of cronies. “What private interests they’d pursued”? There didn’t seem to be any evidence that particularly selfish interests were involved, just talk of tea tasting and painting appraisals alongside curses against the eunuch faction.
How was he supposed to phrase this? For the first time in his life, Xiahou Lian felt that he should probably have read more. That could at least have helped him hoodwink Xie Jinglan now.
“Could you give me some examples?” he hedged.
Xie Jinglan thought for a moment. “Are you familiar with the Partisan Prohibitions of the Han dynasty? Never mind—you probably aren’t. Grand Commandant Dou Wu allied with scholars and marched his troops into the palace to eliminate the eunuch Cao Jie and his faction. Cao Jie ended up capturing him instead. Scholars like Li Ying submitted petitions pleading their case, but Cao Jie falsely accused them of plotting a rebellion. Li Ying, Du Mi, Fan Pang, and other great scholars of the time were all executed, and over seven hundred people were implicated.”
Damn. That’s terrifying.
Xiahou Lian recalled the contents of Xie Bingfeng’s letters. There’d been no mention of anything like storming the palace, so their contents probably weren’t that serious. “What if the cabal was just drinking tea, admiring paintings, cursing the eunuchs, or calling a girl over to sing a few songs?”
“They’d just be a clique of literati. Even if their actions were held against them, they’d at most be told that officials shouldn’t solicit prostitutes and slapped with a fine. Then again…the eunuchs are notoriously petty. In the worst-case scenario, they might be accused of dereliction of duty.”
Xiahou Lian breathed a sigh of relief. There was no cause for worry; Xie Bingfeng didn’t seem to be in any real trouble.
Then Xie Jinglan asked, “Why are you asking about this all of a sudden?”
Xiahou Lian made up excuses. “No reason, just curious. What if I end up an official someday and need some allies or backers?”
“Pfft. Give up on that idea. You couldn’t even pass the entry exams. But with your brawn, you could probably become a constable.”
Xiahou Lian didn’t respond, and they plunged into silence. The moon peeked from behind the clouds, spilling silver rays across the room.
“Hey, Shaoye. Would you ever ally yourself with the eunuchs?” Xiahou Lian turned to look at Xie Jinglan.
For a moment, Xie Jinglan was taken aback. “Teacher said, ‘The world is full of hardship, but the heart must remain good.’ I would never become the eunuchs’ lackey. If push came to shove, and they caused some upheaval in the court, I might take a post outside the capital to help secure the peace. But when the chaos subsided, I’d return to the court to help stabilize the nation once more.”
“What if you found yourself in a desperate situation in which you had no other choice?”
“Life and death are up to fate. I can’t control whether I live or die, but I can at least choose the path I walk.”
Xie Jinglan wanted to say more, but when he turned his head, he saw that Xiahou Lian had grown still. All Xie Jinglan could hear was the sound of his steady breathing.
Xiahou Lian had actually nodded off.
Xie Jinglan turned over and gazed serenely at Xiahou Lian’s face. Moonlight filtered through the paper window, casting a gentle glow on his porcelain cheeks. He stared at the other boy for a long time before finally closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.