SUDDENLY, a cold, gleaming arrow shot through the air, passing over Shen Jue's head to pierce the skull of the blood-sweating horse.
With a whinny, the horse collapsed to its knees, its massive body sliding across the ground and stopping just short of Shen Jue and Wei De. The mud and dust stirred by the falling horse covered them both, and the eldest prince was thrown from the horse. He screamed as he hit the ground hard.
Shen Jue turned his head to see a cold-faced young man in the distance, still holding his longbow.
The prince was bleeding profusely from the head, dazed and disoriented. The pain in his leg hit him belatedly, quickly overwhelming his senses.
"It hurts... It hurts...!"
Panicking eunuchs crowded around. Wei De pushed through the throng, shouting for the imperial physicians as he checked the prince's injuries. Several eunuchs pulled Situ Jin roughly off his horse and dragged him before Wei De.
"Wei-gonggong… This man shot the prince's horse to save you, but he caused the prince to fall. What should we do with him?"
Shen Jue pressed his lips together, crawled forward a few steps, and pressed his head to the ground. "Captain Situ acted out of necessity to save lives. Please show mercy, Wei-gonggong."
Situ Jin knelt calmly on the ground, as if the impending disaster had nothing to do with him.
"Nonsense!" Wei De barked. "How can my worthless life compare to His Highness's precious health and body? If sacrificing my life could ensure His Highness's safety, I would do so without hesitation! As a captain, this man confused his priorities, and he deserves punishment! Take him to the imperial prison and await His Majesty's judgment!"
Shen Jue clenched his teeth and said nothing more. However much he might argue, his words carried no weight. He was nothing but an ant struggling to protect himself. How could he save someone who'd caused the prince to fall and break his leg—even if that person had saved him?
Shen Jue's silence caught Wei De's attention. At the young eunuch's age, many boys were hot-blooded, spouting useless platitudes about brotherhood and repaying favors, only to overestimate themselves and rush to their dooms like moths to a flame. Others were timid, short on courage, and forever hiding from trouble. That especially held true of those who'd witnessed the darkness of the palace and been scared so witless that they could barely string a sentence together.
This boy had the courage to speak up for his benefactor, showing his gratitude. Yet he hadn't pushed, proving that he knew his place. Feeling a spark of interest, Wei De helped Shen Jue stand. "What did you say your name was?"
His opportunity had come. Suppressing his racing heart, Shen Jue replied, "This servant is Shen Jue. He serves in the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard."
"Shen Jue. That's a good name. Who gave it to you?" Wei De asked, unusually amiable.
"My mother," Shen Jue lied without batting an eye. "She was partially educated."
Educated women were either the daughters of noble families or courtesans. Most eunuchs came from humble backgrounds, which was how they'd ended up in such a line of work. Understanding Shen Jue's implication, Wei De asked, "Can you read?"
"A little," Shen Jue answered cautiously, unsure of Wei De's intentions.
"Good. Very good. You may go now. Rest well."
The eunuchs carried the prince away on a stretcher. Several imperial physicians had finally arrived to the scene, and they followed the prince now, frantically wiping sweat from their brows. These days, serving as an imperial physician was as dangerous as being an assassin. One mistake and they would bear the brunt of the emperor's wrath, facing ominous questions like "What use are you?" and threats such as "If you can't cure him, you'll join him in the grave!" This prince was the emperor's only surviving son; if anything happened to him, the physicians would all lose their heads.
Wei De composed himself and hurried after them.
Shen Jue had planned to follow, and the words he'd prepared earlier rose in his throat, but a deep sense of shame stifled them. His mind was in turmoil, his fists clenched. He opened his mouth but ultimately stayed quiet.
After all, he was only fourteen. The pride in his bones was inextinguishable, even if he bent his back in submission. Only those who'd crawled out of the mud, and believed themselves destined for a lowly life, could smile without reservation while kneeling. Such things were far beyond Shen Jue. Even if he suppressed his pride, he couldn't bring himself to force a sycophantic smile.
Shen Jue returned to the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard in low spirits. At a distance, he saw Xiahou Lian sitting on the threshold of the Shunzhen Gate, craning his neck to look out. Without registering it, Shen Jue felt a warmth in his chest, like a comforting hot coal.
When Xiahou Lian saw Shen Jue, his eyes lit up, and he hurried over. But as he noticed Shen Jue's bloodstained sleeve, he exclaimed in alarm, "I thought you said you weren't going to... You know! What happened?"
Shen Jue had almost forgotten his injury. He glanced at it indifferently and said, "It's nothing. Just a scratch." Then he shot Xiahou Lian a look. "Do you think I can perform miracles? How could I take someone's head in broad daylight?"
Relieved that Shen Jue hadn't done anything too reckless, Xiahou Lian dragged him back to their room. He fetched bandages and medicine, peppering Shen Jue with questions. "So what'd you do? Did you see Wei De? What does he look like?"
"Like an ordinary person," Shen Jue replied without looking up.
Xiahou Lian glanced at him and noticed his somber expression. He figured Shen Jue was upset about seeing the man who'd slaughtered his family while being unable to exact his revenge. "Don't worry, Shaoye," he said softly. "You'll have your chance to deal with that scoundrel." Then, as if remembering something, he added excitedly, "By the way, there actually is a way to take someone's head in broad daylight. Have you heard of Qianji Thread?"
"No," said Shen Jue, with a sidelong glance. "The only thing I've heard of that can kill someone in a crowd is Zhang Liang's18 giant hammer."
"What's that?" Xiahou Lian asked, putting his ignorance on full display. "Anyway, I'm talking about a weapon Qiye Garden assassins used three generations ago. It's as thin as silk, but it can slice through hair or even metal. It's so fine that it's invisible unless you have sharp eyes. You can walk through it and feel nothing. Then, a few steps later, you look down and realize you've been cut in half."
Shen Jue was skeptical. Even the sharpest blade couldn't slice cleanly through a human body; it took several chops just to kill a pig. "Then why don't you use it now?" he asked doubtfully.
"It's too hard to make. Qianji Thread was passed down for three generations, but throughout that time, only the Garuda could craft it. It isn't just hard to produce, it's hard to control. You can handle one thread, and it's possible to set up a preplanned web. But if you want to use an array, or to alter the web to trap an enemy, that's really difficult. Moving a single thread affects the whole web. To master the arrays, you need to study The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art and memorize all the web variations. But you know us assassins—we don't have the patience for math. It's a miracle if we're just able to finish the Three Character Classic."
Xiahou Lian didn't mention that Uncle Duan still couldn't write his own name perfectly.
"Why could they use Qianji Thread before, then?" Shen Jue scoffed. "Each generation must be less capable than the last."
"The three generations of the Garuda who could craft it were all from the Ban family, said to be descendants of the Gongshu school of mechanics. After that third generation, the family died out, so it makes sense that we lost the technique."
"But don't you want to recreate it? Then maybe you could kill the abbot and take control of Qiye Garden yourself." Shen Jue glanced at his bandaged arm and sighed. "It's just a small wound, Xiahou Lian. Why bother bandaging it?"
"Your skin's so delicate. There's no way I could be careless." Xiahou Lian cut the bandage and tied it with a neat knot. "Being abbot isn't all that great. You have to shave your head, and you can never marry. That'd just be miserable. I don't share your lofty ambitions. Besides, I'm following you now. Once you're head of the Eastern Depot, just find me a beautiful wife, and I'll be satisfied."
Shen Jue had to admit defeat. It was a good thing that Xiahou Lian hadn't been born into a wealthy family. Otherwise, he'd have been a complete good-for-nothing who indulged in all the vices: drinking, gambling, whoring, laziness, gluttony, and scheming. But Xiahou Lian now safely resided in the palace, so once Shen Jue gained power, he could give Xiahou Lian any woman he wanted—as long as it wasn't a palace concubine or princess.
Shen Jue had already resigned himself to a life as a eunuch. Children were like flowers in a mirror or the moon's reflection in water—something he could never touch, nor even think of reaching for. If Xiahou Lian started a family and sired many sons, Shen Jue could pick the smartest to take care of him in his old age.
As he considered that, Shen Jue felt a sudden pang of sadness. If Xiahou Lian had a new family, what would become of Shen Jue? What was he to Xiahou Lian? On moonlit Mid-Autumn Festival nights, Xiahou Lian would worship the moon and eat mooncakes with his wife and children, leaving the lonely bachelor Shen Jue feeling out of place. Shen Jue reproached himself bitterly. He felt as if he were scraping a file against his heart, the pain dull but persistent. How could he let that happen?!
Shen Jue looked up suddenly and glared daggers at Xiahou Lian. "You wish!"
His hostile look baffled Xiahou Lian. Shen Jue's temper was as unpredictable as a summer storm, striking without warning. Xiahou Lian had suffered it for ages, but he still couldn't see the pattern to Shen Jue's anger. "What'd I do now?" he asked bluntly.
Shen Jue didn't answer, just looked at Xiahou Lian resentfully.
"What'd I do? Tell me!" Xiahou Lian demanded.
What could Shen Jue say? Should he ask Xiahou Lian to stay with him forever and never marry or have children? Xiahou Lian agreeing to stay in the palace had been a huge favor to Shen Jue already. Turning his face away, Shen Jue pushed the lattice window open to look outside. The sky had darkened, and a few stars dangled in the heavens as if they might fall at any moment.
Xiahou Lian gave up. If Shen Jue didn't want to talk, fine. Did he think that Xiahou Lian enjoyed serving him? Xiahou Lian silently packed the scissors and bandages away, only to see Shen Jue pick up his wooden saber and head outside.
Xiahou Lian grabbed the saber. "Are you crazy? Do you want to lose your arm?"
Shen Jue frowned. "It's not even a serious injury. Just a scratch. Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill?"
Damn it. Now I'm the one being overly cautious. Xiahou Lian steamed with rage—but then decided to let Shen Jue torture himself if he wanted to. Why am I always babying him, anyway? I'll end up spoiling him rotten!
No—I already have!
Noticing Jingtie on the bed, Xiahou Lian figured he might as well go for broke. "Fine. You want to practice? Today, I'll let you use a real saber. Let's see what you can do."
They went outside. The night was as cool as water, and fireflies flitted among the trees, resembling stars. The wind rustled the leaves, the sound like gentle whispers. Xiahou Lian wasn't wearing his mask, and though shadows hid half his keen, youthful face, his eyes sparkled with starlight. Shen Jue looked at him for a moment, then averted his gaze.
Xiahou Lian drew Jingtie and handed the saber to Shen Jue. "Use the blade's dull side against me."
Lit by the moon, Jingtie lay quietly in Xiahou Lian's hand, its dark surface absorbing all luminosity.
Legendary swords often came with stories: A blacksmith sacrificing themselves to forge a blade destined to drink blood, each wielder meeting a tragic end. A demon blade that had already claimed 8,676 lives and needed 9,999 to become invincible, capable of slaying gods and Buddhas.
But those were usually just tall tales spun by craftsmen to sell their wares. How could such things be real? Even the stories of Gan Jiang and Mo Ye19 might not be true.
There were no such legends about Jingtie. It had been forged in the Garden; Xiahou Lian was its first master. The blade had no past, and its future was unknown.
Shen Jue gripped Jingtie's hilt, and in that moment, he felt the blade's frantic, hidden heartbeat.
"A blade is an assassin's lifeline, and the Garden only issues one per lifetime. So you'd better hold on to my lifeline tightly; if you drop it, I'll be furious."
Shen Jue didn't reply.
"Before you swing the blade," Xiahou Lian continued, "you must familiarize yourself with it until it feels like part of your body. Look closely. Jingtie's edge isn't sharp enough to cut hair, but it can pierce armor. It's a battlefield weapon."
"Why use a battlefield weapon for assassination?"
Xiahou Lian sighed softly. "If it can pierce armor, it can shatter bones. The abbot said I wasn't ruthless enough, so a rougher blade suited me. Now, shattering an opponent's spine isn't too bad. They suffocate and die. But the skull is different. A person won't die immediately of a shattered skull. They might even become an idiot and suffer migraines before finally dying. Compassionate butchers feed pigs a bowl of anesthetic before slaughter to spare them the pain, but we assassins have no such compassion. As long as killing someone is possible, we'll do whatever it takes."
Shen Jue sneered. "How do you know that anesthetizing pigs is an act of compassion? Maybe the butchers just don't want to hear the pigs scream."
Xiahou Lian was taken aback, then chuckled wryly. "You're right. A dying pig's shrieks are pretty awful."
Shen Jue gripped Jingtie with both hands and swung the saber in a fierce arc. "Enough talk. Let's go!"
He raised his usually downcast eyes, his gaze sharp. A storm seemed to be brewing between his brows.
In an instant, Shen Jue's bloodlust surged, growing mountainous. He let out a low cry as the blade clashed with Xiahou Lian's wooden saber, its dull edge leaving a small crevice in the fragile wood.
Shen Jue's ferocity ignited something in Xiahou Lian. His long-dormant blood roiled like a tidal wave, as if he'd gone back to the days when he'd participated in bloody battles. The urge to kill roared within him like a caged beast. Instead of clashing with Shen Jue head-on, he dodged and evaded. Even Jingtie's dull edge could break a wooden sword in two.
The wooden saber flipped in Xiahou Lian's hand as the two blades clashed in the air. The wood was soon scarred, its edge as jagged as a child's crooked teeth. Shen Jue's blows were fierce; in his hands, Jingtie was like a bloodthirsty demon in the night, its fangs bared. But Shen Jue was still new to the blade, and his reckless attacks left him open. Xiahou Lian quickly found a gap. He deflected a heavy strike from Jingtie, then thrust forward, moving the wooden sword diagonally to tap Shen Jue's shoulder.
Shen Jue didn't stop. He continued to swing Jingtie downward, aiming for Xiahou Lian's neck.
"Hey. I hit your shoulder. You shouldn't be able to move now."
"I can," Shen Jue said firmly.
Of course he could. As long as he had breath in his body, he could drive his blade into the enemy's chest.
Xiahou Lian sighed. "Fine."
***
TIME FLOWED LIKE WATER, slipping through their fingers unnoticed.
Putting on a pair of trousers, Xiahou Lian realized that their hems were too short. He'd lost track of how long it had been since he last contacted Qiye Garden. They hadn't sent anyone to look for him, so they probably assumed he'd died in the palace. He was now a discarded pawn in Qiye Garden's game.
Xiahou Lian's thoughts wandered. If his mother found out, how would she react? She was usually away for a year at a time. She'd left Xiahou Lian alone on the mountain without a second thought when he was just eight. Right then, she was probably off gambling and drinking somewhere with no time to spare for her offspring.
Deep, nameless sorrow welled up inside him. Back on the mountain, he hadn't felt that often. After all, none of the kids there had parents, but he at least had a formidable mother he could boast about. Once he'd come down from the mountain, though, he'd realized that other children's mothers never left their sides; they'd sew them new clothes, cook them meals. Even mothers from poor families carried their children on their backs while they worked. His mother alone might as well not have existed.
As he opened the door to leave, he nearly bumped into a young eunuch. Xiahou Lian steadied the other boy. "Watch where you're going."
"Sorry, sorry!" the eunuch apologized in a high-pitched voice.
His tone made Xiahou Lian's skin crawl. He quickly waved the eunuch away—but then noticed that the eunuch carried a stack of paper lotus flowers. "What're those?"
"Lotus lanterns. The Mid-Autumn Festival is coming up, and the emperor is letting us release them on Yuqing Pool."
Xiahou Lian was stunned. "The Mid-Autumn Festival is already so soon?!"
Suddenly, noise erupted at the palace gates. Xiahou Lian hurried over and saw a eunuch in a sunflower-patterned robe carrying a set of clothing. The eunuch stood in the courtyard, scanning the area with sharp eyes, and called out shrilly, "No one greets me or offers me tea? Are you all dead? Call your Shen-gonggong out."
His imposing demeanor frightened the younger eunuchs, who stood frozen. Xiahou Lian was about to step forward when Shen Jue emerged, holding a cup of tea.
As the eunuch saw Shen Jue, his eyes lit up like flowers blooming, and he broke into a smile immediately. He quickly ordered someone to take the teacup from Shen Jue's hands. "How flattering," he said. "I am Cao Ling, an attendant eunuch from the Document Office. Wei-gonggong sent me to deliver these clothes to you."
As he spoke, he glanced at Shen Jue. Most eunuchs were hunched from years of bowing; they lacked vitality, their posture slouched. Shen-gonggong, however, stood tall and straight as a pine or bamboo. Even his back's slight curve seemed just right. No wonder Wei-gonggong held him in such high regard.
"Clothes?"
"You must not have heard yet. Qian-gonggong from the Document Office has been promoted, leaving a vacancy. Wei-gonggong immediately named you, without another word." Cao Ling's eyes curved into smiling crescents. "In a few days, when Wei-gonggong has some free time, you'll serve him tea and formally acknowledge him as your godfather! From now on, we in the Document Office will count on your guidance, Shen-gonggong."
Xiahou Lian felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. Acknowledge Wei De as a godfather? Who in their right mind would recognize that eunuch bastard as any kind of father?! He instinctively looked at Shen Jue, only to see that the other boy stood as calmly as always, his porcelain-like face betraying no emotion.
Shen Jue stared at the gold-threaded robes and hat Cao Ling carried, his gaze deep and contemplative. As an accompanying eunuch in the Document Office, an attendant who served the emperor directly, he would need to wear a black gauze hat with gold embroidery and a robe patterned with sunflowers, just like this Cao-gonggong. He would also be Wei De's godson from now on—or to put it bluntly, his lapdog, forever at his beck and call. He'd even have to throw in the occasional "Father" to keep things lively.
He hadn't sought this cursed fortune out, yet it had fallen into his lap. Was it fate?
As he reached out and took the gold-threaded robes and hat, a cold smile slowly spread across his lips. "I will of course rely on your guidance, Cao-gonggong. Please convey my regards to my father. His duties are arduous, and I hope he takes care of his health and spares his godson worry."