“No, no, I won’t ride. I’d better go back to the carriage.”
Qinghe shook her head frantically, her voice thick with tears.
Shi Huai glanced at Li Chengze with a trace of helplessness. He helped Qinghe down from the horse and then ushered her back into the carriage.
Tangerine poked its head through a gap in the curtain. Its round eyes stared at Li Chengze as it let out a plaintive meow, as if saying, “Stop meddling.”
The corner of Li Chengze’s mouth twitched. He urged his horse forward and rode to the front of the procession.
Liugou was a very small village, with only a few dozen households. Nestled between the mountains and the water, it had rather pleasant scenery.
A small river flowed past the village entrance.
The water was crystal clear, revealing the smooth stones on the riverbed and the little fish darting through the current.
The procession stopped at the village entrance, and Li Yi went to find them lodgings.
There was no inn in the village, only a few unoccupied houses.
Li Yi found a household with three main rooms and two side rooms. The courtyard was small but clean and orderly.
The owner was an old man named Old Wang.
His wife had passed away years ago, and his children all lived elsewhere, leaving him alone in the village.
When Old Wang saw more than a dozen people pouring through his gate, he was startled. He nearly dropped the tobacco pipe in his hand.
The stem of the pipe between his lips trembled several times.
“Gentlemen… what might you be…”
Li Yi took a silver ingot from his sleeve and held it out to him. “We’d like to stay for one night, old sir. This is payment for the room.”
Old Wang stared at the ingot, his eyes going wide. He waved his hands repeatedly, insisting that it was far too much.
Only after Li Yi had firmly pressed it into his hands did he accept it with profuse thanks and lead them into the courtyard.
As usual, Shi Huai took the best room.
Though there was little good to be said about it.
The room was small, containing only a wooden bed, a table, two chairs, and an old wardrobe in the corner. The paint on its doors had long since flaked away.
A withered potted plant sat on the windowsill. No one knew what kind it had once been; only a few bare branches remained.
Qinghe put down the bundles and released Tangerine from the trunk.
Tangerine seemed quite pleased with its new surroundings. It made several circuits of the room before finally leaping onto the windowsill and settling down.
Its round eyes fixed on the hens in the courtyard, which were busy scratching for food.
Li Chengze took the room to the left of Shi Huai’s. The two rooms were separated by only a single wall.
The first thing he did after entering was not rest, but push open the window and survey the layout of the courtyard.
Only after confirming that there were no potential dangers did he sit down in a chair and take a letter from inside his robe. He unfolded it.
The letter had been sent by an undercover agent in the capital. It contained a single line:
“Liu San, a retainer of the Shen household, has been identified. His real name is Liu Youcai. He is originally from Huaibei, formerly served as adviser to the Black Tiger Gang, and later joined the Shen household.”
Li Chengze stared at that line for a long while. Then he folded the letter, tucked it back into his robe, and rose to the window.
The window of Shi Huai’s room was open as well. The two of them were separated by less than three feet.
“Liu Youcai has been identified,” Li Chengze said, his voice not loud, but just enough for Shi Huai to hear.
Shi Huai had been writing a letter at the table. The tip of his brush paused, and he raised his head to look at Li Chengze.
“What kind of person is he?”
“A native of Huaibei. He served as an adviser to the Black Tiger Gang before joining the Shen household. The middleman was referring to him. The steward of the Shen household was only a substitute name—Liu Youcai was the real contact.”
Leaning against the window frame with his arms folded, Li Chengze kept his eyes on Shi Huai’s face.
Shi Huai set down his brush and leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the smoke-blackened beam overhead.
“So Shen Zhixing knew from the very beginning. Helping his wife was only an excuse—he was the mastermind all along.”
“Not necessarily.” Li Chengze shook his head. “Liu Youcai was a retainer of the Shen household, but Shen Zhixing may not have known what he was doing.”
“For someone to escape the Black Tiger Gang unscathed and then take refuge with the Shen household, he must be clever. He wouldn’t leave evidence behind.”
Shi Huai nodded and picked up his brush again.
The tip moved across the paper with a soft scratching sound, recording the day’s events one character at a time.
When he wrote the words “Liugou,” his brush paused. He looked up at Li Chengze.
“When do you plan to return to the frontier, the heir apparent?”
“I’m not going back.”
Li Chengze’s tone was as calm as if he were merely commenting on the weather.
Shi Huai’s fingers stilled. He lifted his eyes to look at him.
Li Chengze leaned against the window frame, sunlight streaming in from behind him and gilding his silhouette in a layer of gold.
The corners of his lips curved slightly, carrying the certainty of a man who had already made up his mind and would not be swayed by anyone.
“I’ve spent enough years at the frontier.”
Shi Huai opened his mouth as if to say something, then swallowed the words.
He lowered his head and continued writing. After two more lines, he stopped again and looked up at Li Chengze.
“How will you explain this to His Majesty?”
“I’ll handle it.”
Li Chengze straightened from the window frame, adjusted his collar, and turned back to his own room.
Night deepened.
Liugou sank into silence. Even the dogs had stopped barking. Only the sound of the river in the distance remained, rushing and murmuring like a lullaby.
Li Chengze did not sleep.
He sat by the window, a short blade in his hand. Its edge gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
His eyes rested on the half-closed wooden gate of the courtyard, while his ears strained to catch every sound outside.
A faint disturbance came from the room next door—the sound of Shi Huai turning over.
The wooden bed creaked once, startlingly loud in the stillness of the night, and then all was quiet again.
Li Chengze placed the short blade on the table, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
He thought of the last time he had left the capital.
Shi Huai had stood at the city gate to see him off, dressed in a moon-white robe, a folded fan in his hand. He had smiled at him and said, “Take care, the heir apparent.”
That smile had returned to him countless times during the nights at the frontier. He remembered every detail with perfect clarity.
The curve of those upturned lips, the light in his eyes, the way the wind had lifted the loose strands of hair at his temples.
He opened his eyes and stared at the wall separating them.
There was only one wall between them, less than three feet away. He need only stand, take a few steps, and push open that door.
But he could not.
Because he feared that once he entered, he would never be able to leave again.
Early the next morning, when Shi Huai rose, he found someone new in the courtyard.
The man wore a somewhat worn gray robe. His hair was secured with a bamboo hairpin, and his lean face was marked by prominent cheekbones and heavy dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked as though he had traveled through the night without any sleep.
It was Shi Yuanping.
“Second Uncle? What brings you here?”
Shi Huai stood in the doorway, watching Shi Yuanping speak with Li Chengze in the courtyard.
The two men stood close together, their voices lowered so that he could not make out what they were saying.
Hearing him, Shi Yuanping turned and glanced at him. The corner of his mouth moved faintly.
“Come inside.”
Shi Huai stepped aside to let him enter.
Shi Yuanping sat down in a chair. He accepted the tea Qinghe brought him, took a sip, and set it down. Then he drew a letter from his sleeve and placed it on the table.
“The matter concerning the Shen household has been investigated.”
Shi Huai sat down opposite him, picked up the letter, and unfolded the sheet inside.
The handwriting was Shi Yuanping’s—neat and orderly, each stroke written with meticulous care.
“Liu Youcai, originally from Qinghe County in Huaibei, once served as the Black Tiger Gang’s secretary, overseeing the gang’s accounts.”
