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.
An assassin pushed the door open with his saber and slowly entered, eyes scanning the dark room. Xiahou Lian and Xie Jinglan hid behind a dustpan and a barrel, peeking out with frightened eyes. The assassin moved between the shelves, poking at the clutter with his blade. His walk was leisurely, as if he were strolling through a garden. One more turn, and he'd be right in front of them.
Xiahou Lian glanced at Xie Jinglan, put on his mask, and quickly crawled out. Hearing the noise, the assassin turned sharply.
"It's me," Xiahou Lian said.
"What are you doing here, brat?" the assassin sneered, his expression menacing.
"Can't a guy take a piss?" Xiahou Lian pretended to straighten his clothes.
"Hmph," the assassin snorted. "I'd say you're scared out of your wits and hiding like a coward."
Xiahou Lian turned his head away, feigning shame at being exposed.
"Spineless coward. Stay hidden, then—don't wet yourself and embarrass your mother," the assassin said, tapping Xiahou Lian's face with his scabbard before laughing and walking out of the room.
Once the assassin was gone, Xie Jinglan crawled out behind Xiahou Lian.
Xiahou Lian bent down and started stripping off his clothes. "Hurry. Change into these," he whispered.
"Didn't you say that your mother was one of the best? That you were somebody of high status who no one would dare mess with?" Xie Jinglan stared at Xiahou Lian. "Why did that guy treat you like that?"
Xiahou Lian scratched his head. He had made that boast to Xie Jinglan. Now his lie was exposed, but he felt no shame. He simply shoved his clothes into Xie Jinglan's arms, urging, "Don't worry about that now, Shaoye. Hurry up and change."
"What about you? What will happen to you?" Xie Jinglan demanded. "If you let me go, what happens to you?"
"I told you, don't worry about it!" Xiahou Lian said irritably, grabbing Xie Jinglan and pulling off his clothes. "If you stay here, you'll die for sure, while I won't—it's that simple! Hurry up and put these on. Don't look back, don't tremble, and don't speak! Don't let anyone find out you're Xie Jinglan!"
Xie Jinglan looked at him silently for a moment, then lowered his head and dressed in the garments.
"Young master, the world outside is dangerous. Take care of yourself." Xiahou Lian gripped Xie Jinglan's shoulders. "Remember, don't look back, don't say a word." Then he opened the door, pushed Xie Jinglan out, and quickly closed it behind him, leaving no time for second thoughts.
The night was heavy, and a cold corpse lay at the bottom of the steps, its hollow eyes staring at Xie Jinglan as if full of lingering hatred. The shadows of the trees loomed ominously, and every dark crevice seemed to hide unknown dangers. Xie Jinglan touched the scabbard at his waist, the cold metal jolting his nerves. He took a step into the perilous night, unsure what lay ahead.
The dark path seemed endless. To reach the side gate, he would have to pass through a garden and two courtyards. He tried to stick to deserted paths, doing his best to ignore the increasingly clear screams and wails around him. His legs felt like they were full of lead, and each step was an immense effort.
Finally, Xie Jinglan reached the garden. Its winding walkways seemed like an endless maze. The lanterns had been extinguished, and all he could see were the faint outlines of trees and rocks.
Close by was a dry well. When an assassin dropped from a tree and peered down it, a terrified scream immediately echoed from its depths. The assassin raised his right hand and shot three darts into the well; the scream instantly fell silent. Xie Jinglan shuddered imperceptibly but forced himself to focus. He continued walking, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the assassin turn to stare at him, a gleaming knife spinning in his fingers. Xie Jinglan forced himself not to look and continued walking steadily, step by step.
As he passed through a gate, he suddenly heard a familiar cry.
"Shaoye! San-shaoye! Where are you?"
He looked up sharply to see Aunt Lan stumbling up the steps, covered in blood. He wanted to run to her, but when she saw his mask and black clothing, she screamed in terror and ran in the opposite direction. He reached out, wanting to call her back—but at that moment, an arrow whistled past his ear.
His mind immediately seemed to drag as if stuck in mud, his thoughts and movements slowing to a crawl. He watched the arrow pass before his eyes, its intricate patterns glinting in the light.
The arrow slowly—so slowly—pierced Aunt Lan's back. A ripple of red bloomed there, and she let out a horrible scream as she collapsed to the ground, never to rise again.
"Your side clear?"
"Done. Let's check on old Duan."
An assassin rushed past, bumping Xie Jinglan's shoulder. Xie Jinglan stood frozen, like a puppet without any strings. Aunt Lan's body lay in a pool of dark blood that spread like ink on paper.
Out of the corner of his eye, Xie Jinglan saw the assassin with the spinning knife reappear. He stood in the shadow of a tree and silently watched Xie Jinglan.
"Xiahou Lian," the assassin called, his voice as clear as a flowing spring. "What're you doing?"
Fear crept into Xie Jinglan's heart like frost, and his body trembled uncontrollably.
Don't look back. Don't tremble. Don't be afraid.
Xie Jinglan clenched his fists and stomped past Aunt Lan's body. The thick smell of blood assaulted his senses, making him want to vomit. Gritting his teeth, he passed her corpse. Under the mask, tears streamed down his face, dripping from his chin as he turned the corner.
He was almost there. Almost there. He could see the slightly open gate, and he walked steadily toward it, resisting the urge to run. In the alley beyond the gate, an assassin played hopscotch, his long saber propped against the wall. He noticed Xie Jinglan and stopped; his gaze was like ice.
Xie Jinglan turned stiffly and walked toward the other end of the alley. One step, another step, another. He was almost at the corner, almost out of the assassin's sight.
"Hey, where're you going?" the assassin suddenly called from behind him.
Xie Jinglan froze.
"The temple block hasn't sounded yet. The rule is that you can't leave."
Xie Jinglan didn't respond.
"Hey. Are you mute?"
Should he answer? No, he couldn't speak—his voice would reveal him. Xie Jinglan's mind raced, but he couldn't think of a way out.
Another voice suddenly spoke: "Let him go back. It's his first time out. He's probably scared out of his wits."
Xie Jinglan turned and saw the assassin with the spinning knife. Beneath the moonlight, his eyes were gentle as water.
"Tch. Coward," scoffed the hopscotch-playing assassin.
Supporting himself against the wall, Xie Jinglan turned the corner, then took a few steps before breaking into a sprint. The Xie residence fell farther and farther behind him, but the nightmare of blood and flame tailed him like a shadow. Aunt Lan's blood-soaked corpse seemed to hover before his eyes. Whether they were open or closed, her broken body remained, impossible to escape.
Just moments ago, he'd been crying and shouting about saving Aunt Lan. Faced with the assassins, though, he'd been paralyzed with fear. He was a coward—a coward!
Tripping on a stone, Xie Jinglan fell down hard, scraping his face and hands. He lay there, his fists pounding the ground until they were bloody, leaving crimson streaks on the filthy earth.
When his hands grew sore, he got up, then sat against the wall. The street was empty, and the lanterns hanging under the eaves looked like floating will-o'-the-wisps.
Suddenly, he realized that he had no home to return to—no place to go. He had seldom left the Xie residence. To him, the small city of Jinling was the whole world. Where could he go now? Who could he turn to—Dai-xiansheng? No. He was too close. Seeking him out would only endanger him. Did Xie Jinglan have any other relatives? No—he had no maternal family to rely on, nor did he know of any distant family. He was like a fledgling bird that couldn't find its nest, foundering in the cold wind.
This was, without a doubt, all because of that scoundrel Wei De. He was the one who'd ordered Qiye Garden to wipe out the Xie family, the one responsible for killing Aunt Lan. Suddenly, Xie Jinglan had a purpose, which he clung to like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood. He would take revenge, whether against Wei De or Qiye Garden. He would make sure they perished in the wilderness like dogs!
Xie Jinglan struggled to his feet and staggered into the endless night. He knew that the third young master of the Xie family had died that evening. From then on, he would be a ghost.