Chapter 5
1647 Words
Three bronze locks hung on the iron gate to the rear courtyard.
The copper had blackened with age.
Lin Ruo held up the goat-horn lantern, her wrist shaking along with the handle. The key scraped against the lock in a staccato rhythm, missing the keyhole again and again.
“His Highness decreed death to any who enter,” she whispered, stepping back. “Your servant does not dare.”
Zheng Wantang took the lantern.
“Fetch Han Changluan.”
The cold moonlight did not reach this secluded yard.
The high walls were topped with iron spikes to prevent climbing—a fortress in miniature.
Hurried footsteps approached. Han Changluan arrived with his personal guards. Seeing where Zheng Wantang stood, he dropped to one knee.
“Princess, this place is strictly forbidden.”
Zheng Wantang turned.
She handed the lantern back to Lin Ruo and extended her right hand toward Han Changluan.
“Your blade.”
Han Changluan’s fingers locked around the hilt.
They did not move.
Zheng Wantang stepped forward.
“One.”
Han Changluan kept his head down, his jaw tight.
“Two.”
She stepped off the stone platform and stood directly before him.
Her palm closed cleanly around the scabbard at his waist.
“You know better than I how many coins are left in the household treasury.”
She pulled the scabbard toward her.
“Three hundred taels of silver disappear into this place every fifth day of the month. As long as that money drains this household, I will see what lies behind that door.”
“Three.”
Han Changluan rose sharply.
He drew his blade, his wrist turning in a swift arc.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Three sharp sounds rang out. The bronze locks and their chains crashed onto the blue stone pavement.
The iron door slammed open with a kick, its hinges grinding.
There was no hidden gold in the courtyard. No concubines.
Only the thick, bitter smell of medicine, mixed with the lingering scent of blood that had not faded over the years.
Zheng Wantang raised her lantern and stepped across the threshold.
Rows of wooden racks filled the open yard, draped with bloodstained strips of linen.
“Who goes there!”
A low shout from the western wing. The clatter of metal striking metal.
A dozen shadows emerged from beneath the eaves and from behind the water jars, forming a wall across the courtyard.
Spears in the front rank. Short blades behind.
All pointed toward the gate.
Lin Ruo cried out and pressed herself against Han Changluan’s back.
Zheng Wantang did not retreat.
She lifted the lantern higher. The dim yellow light fell upon the faces before her.
The man at the front had lost his left arm at the shoulder.
His empty sleeve was tucked into his belt. In his remaining hand, he gripped a spear chipped and worn from use.
Beside him stood a young man with half his face scarred—a wound that ran from forehead to jaw.
Behind them, men leaned on iron crutches. Others were missing half a foot.
Thirteen men.
Thirteen bodies pieced back together, incomplete.
“Father!” Han Changluan rushed in from the gate.
The one-eyed veteran at the front recognized his son. His grip on the spear relaxed slightly.
But the point did not lower.
“The Princess comes breaking down doors in the dead of night. What does she want?” The old soldier’s voice was heavy.
Zheng Wantang did not answer.
She looked at these men.
“Veterans of Mang Mountain?”
The old man pressed his lips shut.
Zheng Wantang raised her hand and hurled the thick ledger onto the stone roller in the center of the yard.
The sound echoed off the walls.
“Three hundred taels. Every fifth day of the month.”
She pointed at the book.
“For three years, Gao Changgong has drained the household treasury to keep you hidden in this dark courtyard.”
The one-armed man’s neck veins bulged.
“We are not useless mouths! The Prince says the word, and we can go out and kill!”
Zheng Wantang laughed.
She walked up to the one-armed man and looked at the rusted spear.
“With this piece of scrap?”
She turned, her gaze sweeping over the thirteen.
“The court cut off your pensions. Gao Wei withheld military pay. They want leverage over Gao Changgong. They want to turn the army against him.”
“Gao Changgong pours his own silver into this courtyard to keep broken soldiers alive.”
She fixed her eyes on the veteran’s single working eye.
“In the Prince’s eyes, this is brotherhood.”
“In the Emperor’s eyes, this is raising a private army. Conspiracy to rebel.”
The courtyard went deathly silent.
The veterans’ hands trembled around their weapons, their knuckles white.
“Lies!” the scarred young man shouted. “The Prince is loyal to Great Qi!”
“Loyalty means nothing! One of Zu Ting’s spies was already in the front hall tonight!”
Zheng Wantang’s voice rose.
“He thinks locking this gate keeps you safe.”
“Yecheng is full of officials with noses sharper than dogs.”
“If that door is forced open, those three hundred taels on the books become the proof that will destroy the Prince’s entire household.”
Han Changluan’s undershirt was soaked with cold sweat.
He had fought countless battles. He had never counted this cost.
What the commander saw as loyalty to his fallen brothers—in Yecheng, that was a crime punishable by the annihilation of his entire clan.
Clatter.
Old Han let go.
His spear struck the blue stone.
“Since the Princess considers us a liability, this old man will give up his life.”
He stepped forward on his iron crutch.
“Tonight, we die in this yard. Captain Han, burn our bodies outside the city. Do not let it trouble the Prince.”
“We will die before we burden the Prince!”
Weapons hit the ground one after another.
These men who had crawled out of death’s own mouth chose the one path that left no trace.
Zheng Wantang kicked aside the short blade at her feet.
She pulled a wooden bench over and sat down. Her white mourning robes dragged in the dirt.
“I came here in the dead of night. If I only wanted you dead, why bring the ledgers?”
She folded her hands over her knees.
“The Prince keeps you because his heart is soft. Soft hearts do not survive in Yecheng.”
“I intend to let him survive.”
Old Han stopped moving.
The other twelve raised their heads, staring at this woman from Xingyang, this woman they had only known as the one who wept.
“The silver is already spent. The charge of conspiracy already exists. Let us make it real.”
Zheng Wantang leaned forward.
“They say Gao Changgong keeps assassins. Then I will truly build a net.”
The old veteran’s single eye contracted sharply.
Breathing grew heavier.
“You are broken. You cannot fight on a battlefield.”
Zheng Wantang rose and walked to the scarred young soldier.
“That is your disguise.”
“Who questions a blind man begging in the street?”
“Who suspects a lame man selling tea?”
“Who investigates the one-eyed watchman who makes his rounds?”
She turned.
“Merchants, servants, drinkers in tea houses.”
“From tomorrow, shed your armor. Scatter into every corner of Yecheng. Be my eyes. Be my ears.”
“I want to know who the Emperor beds tonight.”
“How much rice Zu Ting buys tomorrow.”
“Who Lu Lingxuan meets when she leaves the palace.”
Han Changluan stood by the gate, his spine cold.
Old Han’s knuckles whitened around his iron crutch.
“We don’t know how to gather intelligence,” he said through clenched teeth. “We only know how to kill.”
“I will teach you.”
Zheng Wantang walked back to the stone roller.
“Rules for contact. Code systems. How to filter information.”
“If you are not stupid, I will forge you into the sharpest blade in Yecheng.”
She swept her gaze over them.
“Not for free. Three hundred taels a month. Not charity for your medicine—pay for your work.”
“Die here as men already dead—or become wolves that tear open Yecheng’s darkness. Choose.”
Wind swept over the wall.
Old Han bent, picked up the fallen short blade, and held it flat in both hands.
His knee struck the blue stone.
“Veteran Han Jiu pledges his life to the Princess.”
Thud.
The one-armed man knelt.
The scarred young soldier knelt.
Thirteen broken men knelt as one, forming a whole formation once more.
“Tell us what to do,” Old Han said, his eyes reddening.
Zheng Wantang tossed the ledger to Lin Ruo and turned to Han Changluan.
“Captain Han.”
“Here!” His voice echoed in the empty yard.
“Take what silver remains in the treasury. Eight hundred taels.”
Zheng Wantang looked up at the dark sky.
“Buy three shops in the southern market tomorrow.”
“A grain shop. A pawn shop. A medicine shop.”
“Zu Ting likes to send rats into this household.”
“Tomorrow, I will show him what it means when the whole city is full of rats.”
Every coin was spent.
The net was cast.
But the game had only just begun.
Two nights after the veterans shed their armor and scattered into Yecheng, a detachment of fully armed imperial guards arrived with an unassailable decree. They broke open the gates of the Lanling household.
- Writer
