Chapter 17:
The Field of Slaughter
THE COURTYARD WAS DARK, and moonlight spilled across the ground.
Under the meager light of a single lamp, Xie Jinglan closed a newly published collection of eight-legged essays and rubbed his weary eyes. “Pour me some tea, Xiahou Lian,” he called.
Only after he spoke did he remember that Xiahou Lian had already gone home. The sound of rustling wind filled the courtyard, and a little barking echoed in the distance. The scenery was the same, but without Xiahou Lian’s chatter, the entire courtyard felt empty, as if the Xie residence had lost all its vitality.
Xie Bingfeng completely ignored Xie Jinglan now. Lady Xiao’s rash had only just healed; she was still recuperating in her room and thus left him alone. He finally had some peace again. He continued to attend Dai Shengyan’s lectures every day and to spend his nights in the library until late. Aunt Lan was getting old and couldn’t stay up with Xie Jinglan, and he wasn’t used to having anyone else serve him, so he sat alone with a lamp and a book, not even noticing when his tea went cold.
He picked up his brush, intending to practice calligraphy. But as soon as his brush touched the paper, he wrote a single character without thinking: Lian. He thought of Xiahou Lian’s terrible handwriting and wondered whether the boy would still practice calligraphy after returning to the mountain.
On the verge of nodding off, Xie Jinglan packed up his writing tools, extinguished the lamp, and walked out. The night was chilly, and the barking grew closer, loud and abrupt. Xie Jinglan was a bit worried that the dogs outside the residence might sneak in, so he held up his lantern, walking carefully along the dark path.
Suddenly, a nearby courtyard erupted into chaos. Xie Jinglan cocked his head to listen to the faint sounds of argument and commotion. Matters outside Qiuwu Courtyard had never concerned him, however, so he paid no attention to the hubbub and continued walking. Then, out of nowhere, a hand reached from behind him and covered his mouth. The lantern clattered to the ground as someone dragged him into a pitch-black room.
Xie Jinglan struggled with all his might, landing a few punches on the person holding him before they snapped, “Stop hitting me! It’s me!”
“Xiahou Lian!” Xie Jinglan stopped in surprise, staring at the shadowy figure in the darkness. “Why are you here?”
Once Xie Jinglan’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he saw that Xiahou Lian was wearing a white mask and dressed all in black, his lean muscles evident beneath his tight clothing. Foreboding rose in Xie Jinglan’s heart.
Xiahou Lian frantically began stripping his clothes off. “Undress. Hurry up.”
“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Xie Jinglan stared at Xiahou Lian, shocked. “Explain yourself!”
“There’s no time!” Xiahou Lian saw that Xie Jinglan wasn’t moving. He started tugging the other boy’s clothes, only to be met with fierce resistance. “Qiye Garden is going to slaughter your entire family. If we don’t leave now, it’ll be too late!”
It was as if a clap of thunder had struck Xie Jinglan’s head. He grabbed Xiahou Lian by the collar, asking in disbelief, “What’d you say?!”
As if confirming Xiahou Lian’s words, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. Xiahou Lian covered Xie Jinglan’s mouth, and the pair crouched by the door, trembling with fear. Outside, a familiar voice was crying and begging for mercy—it sounded like a servant from one of the courtyards. A sharp blade flashed, and a piercing scream rang out. Black blood spattered the paper-covered door, forming a pattern like drooping plum blossoms. Xie Jinglan’s pupils contracted in horror.
The assassin outside didn’t notice the two boys in the room and walked away carrying his saber. Xie Jinglan turned to Xiahou Lian and gripped his shoulders. “Didn’t you say Xie Bingfeng was the target? Why are you wiping out the entire household? Why?!”
“I...” Xiahou Lian’s lips trembled. After a moment, he said, “Your father—”
“Wait! Aunt Lan is still in Qiuwu Courtyard. I have to save her!” Seeming to wake from a dream, Xie Jinglan stumbled to his feet and rushed toward the door, only for Xiahou Lian to grab him around the waist.
“Don’t go! It’s too late! Qiuwu Courtyard is near the side gate—that’s where the assassins entered from! If the library weren’t so far away, I couldn’t have gotten ahead of them in time to come save you!”
The distant wails grew clearer, and shadowy figures dashed past the paper windows. Xie Jinglan pushed Xiahou Lian with all his strength. “No! I have to save her! Xiahou Lian, you bastard, let me go!”
But still Xiahou Lian held him tightly. Xie Jinglan grabbed the other boy’s collar and punched him in the face. Xiahou Lian tumbled backward, a bruise already blooming on his cheek.
Xie Jinglan turned and ran, but Xiahou Lian caught up and pinned him against the wall. “Xie Jinglan! Calm down!” he shouted. “If you go, you’ll just die! Do you hear me?”
“Let me go, Xiahou Lian! Are you just going to abandon Aunt Lan?”
Xiahou Lian looked at him with red eyes. “Do you think I want Aunt Lan to die? I can only save you, though! Just you!” His hands dug into Xie Jinglan’s shoulders. “Know how many assassins are here today? Twenty! They blocked the front and back gates. There’s no escape. Qiuwu Courtyard is next to the back gate, so Aunt Lan is already dead!”
Xie Jinglan’s mind went blank. Everything felt like a dream. Shortly before, he’d finished reading by candlelight and had been about to go to bed, lantern in hand. Why had Xiahou Lian suddenly appeared? Why had the assassins suddenly appeared?
Was this a dream? Xie Jinglan looked up in a daze and reached for the window, as if hoping this was just a nightmare.
Xiahou Lian grabbed his hand, took a deep breath, and spoke in a low voice. “Shaoye, listen to me. Put on my clothes and mask, leave through the side gate, and don’t look back. Don’t be afraid. If anyone asks you anything, don’t answer—just keep walking. Understand?”
Xiahou Lian’s palm was scorching hot; it was like holding a fireball. Xie Jinglan could feel him trembling, and he looked up to see Xiahou Lian drenched with sweat, eyelashes wet with what might’ve been sweat or tears. Again, Xiahou Lian asked, “Understand?”
Xie Jinglan shook his head vigorously. “I need to find Xiansheng. I need to go to the military chief’s office and tell them to send troops!”
“It’s useless!” Xiahou Lian responded. “If you go to Dai-xiansheng, you’ll only bring trouble upon him! As for the military, they won’t help you!”
“Why not?”
“Because the one who wants you dead is Wei De—the head of the Directorate of Ceremonial!” Xiahou Lian stared into Xie Jinglan’s eyes. “The military chief of Yingtian Prefecture is his godson. If you go there for help, they’ll just kill you!”
Xie Jinglan’s lips moved soundlessly, his mind whirling with chaos. He covered his face. “What else can I do? What can I do?” His daily study of the Four Books and Five Classics was now useless, offering no help. He pulled at his hair in agony, listening to the wails, shouts, and cries for help interweave into a cacophony.
A fire had broken out somewhere, and the faint glow of the flames illuminated the room. Someone ran past, screaming, “Help! Assass—” The cry was cut short as its speaker fell to the ground like a rag doll, revealing an assassin holding a long saber with both hands. All the assassins were dressed in black, their silver masks glinting in the moonlight. They carried long, bloodstained sabers, moving like silent owls.
“Quick, put on my clothes!” Xiahou Lian handed Xie Jinglan a worn-out knife, then pulled a pouch from near his chest. “This knife is for self-defense. The pouch has a pair of earrings that you can pawn for some silver. Take them. Remember, once you’re out, go as far as you can, and never tell anyone that your name is Xie Jinglan.”
“Where can I go?” Xie Jinglan looked at Xiahou Lian, eyes dark and lifeless. “Tell me, where can I go?” He suddenly lunged at Xiahou Lian, grabbing his neck. “Did you plan to wipe out my family from the moment you entered the manor, Xiahou Lian?” he shouted. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? What were you doing in the Xie residence? All your talk about your mother coming to get you, about being a thief—it was all lies!”
Xiahou Lian pushed Xie Jinglan to the ground. “Yes, I lied to you! I’m not a thief! But the one who caused the Xie family’s deaths is Xie Bingfeng himself and no one else! Wei De found out that he made the entire household memorize the impeachment memorial against him, and in his fury, Wei De ordered all your deaths!”
Xie Jinglan stared at Xiahou Lian, his eyes bloodshot. Suddenly, they heard someone approaching the door. They both froze.