Chapter Six: Who Is It?

At that moment, Yang Lian was utterly shocked, unable to react until the two figures disappeared from his sight. Only then did he come to his senses. He had no idea that, as they walked away, the man in black and the woman in white were speaking in hushed tones.

“Senior brother, do you know that man?” the woman in white asked curiously. She had noticed earlier that her senior brother had been unusually courteous to the man—quite out of character for him.

“He... he rather resembles an old acquaintance,” the man in black replied, nostalgia flooding his voice. Then he shook his head and added, “But it’s impossible. That person has been dead for many years; his grave lies in Jinling. I once went to pay my respects. Besides, I saw him with my own eyes laid to rest in his coffin. There can be no mistake.”

“Senior brother, why have I never heard you mention this before?” the woman pressed. They had trained together for years and knew each other intimately, yet she had never heard him speak of such a thing.

“It’s all ancient history now. Let it be carried away by the wind,” the man in black sighed. He paused and then continued, “The court’s entanglements are too deep and murky to unravel. Our Mist and Rain Pavilion is but a martial sect of the jianghu; it is best we do not meddle in the struggles of the imperial court.” With that, he lengthened his stride.

“Alas!” the woman in white sighed, though it was unclear for whom her regret was meant. With a few light steps, she caught up with the man in black, her movement ethereal as though she were a banished immortal, vanishing from Yang Lian’s sight.

Once the two had gone, Yang Lian composed himself and approached the dead man. He saw a shallow yet fatal sword wound at the corpse’s throat. The swordsman’s skill was formidable, Yang Lian thought as he crouched to search the body for clues.

He found little—just a small piece of broken silver, worth perhaps two or three taels, half a string of cash, and a tattered manual. Opening it, he saw it was a treatise on internal energy cultivation, complete with illustrations and notes. After a moment’s thought, Yang Lian tucked the book into his robe.

Having found nothing else, he concluded this was a mere low-ranking underling. As he rose, Yang Lian noticed something on the man’s shoulder—a tiger’s paw, carved with remarkable lifelikeness, as though it might leap from the flesh at any moment to deliver a fatal blow.

“Is this the mark of the Taihu pirates?” Yang Lian wondered, studying the emblem and committing it to memory. Zhang Qili’s elder brother had died at the hands of the Taihu pirates, and according to the dying words of this man, a more formidable power supported them from behind.

Who could it be? Was it truly, as rumor had it, the people of Southern Tang? Yang Lian could not be sure, but he knew this debt must be repaid in blood.

Having stripped the body of anything useful, Yang Lian walked into the dense forest. During the fight, he had suspected Zhang Qili had gone missing. Although he had forbidden her from coming out, if she had appeared at that moment, the pirate might have been slain. More perplexing was the girl’s uncharacteristic silence.

When Yang Lian reached the spot where they had hidden the previous night, his fears were confirmed—Zhang Qili was indeed gone. Where had the girl gone? Yang Lian was certain she would not abandon him; deep in his memory, he knew she was not that sort of person. Besides, she would not wish to disappoint him.

Sure enough, not far from their hiding place, the ground was strewn with disorderly leaves, and upon them were scrawled two crooked characters: Jinling.

Those two characters gave Yang Lian pause. They bore the weight of many memories, stirring a host of thoughts. He could not fathom why Zhang Qili would leave those words behind, nor what business could take her to Jinling, or who had spirited her away so silently.

After only a brief hesitation, Yang Lian made up his mind. Since fate had seen fit to let him be reborn in the body of this “Yang Lian,” perhaps it was to resolve these burdens. In that case, he might as well go to Jinling and see for himself.

Jinling lay to the northwest of Suzhou and Changzhou. In later times, it would be but a two or three hour journey, but now, with no horse and only his own feet to rely on, it would take him at least ten days to reach it. Pondering the situation, Yang Lian concluded that though Zhang Qili had vanished, all signs suggested she was not in immediate danger. It would be best for him to recover his strength first. The manual found on the pirate also piqued his interest.

He reheated the half rabbit Zhang Qili had left behind, ate it, and set off northward. Heavy rains still fell in the north from time to time, slowing his progress. Three days later, at dusk, Yang Lian arrived at Henglin Town on the banks of the Grand Canal.

Henglin Town lay southeast of Changzhou, more than a hundred li from the county seat. Its proximity to the canal made it a crucial hub for both Suzhou and Changzhou, as well as the entire Jiangdong region. The town was thus quite prosperous and its scenery elegant, with green willows lining both banks, and a lively throng of people. Even in these troubled times, many foreigners with high noses and deep-set eyes mingled in the crowd, lending the town an exotic air.

Traveling on foot, Yang Lian was exhausted and planned to rest and sleep well. Buying a horse had crossed his mind, but with his meager funds, he could only sigh in longing. It seemed he would have to walk to Jinling after all.

Entering the town, Yang Lian looked around, wondering if Zhang Qili might have passed through. Anyone heading to Jinling must travel this way, but amidst the teeming crowds, there was no trace to be found. He could only shake his head with a wry smile and resolve to proceed to Jinling first.

As Yang Lian was lost in thought, a sudden commotion rose on the street. Looking up, he saw several warhorses charging down the way. The leading horsemen were arrogant and overbearing; many townsfolk, unable to dodge in time, received harsh lashes from their whips, their faces stinging red with pain. Seeing the armored riders, swords at their waists, the people dared not protest and quickly made way, swallowing their anger in silence.

Yang Lian stepped aside, watching the riders coldly. Their armor was of fine quality, and their discipline betrayed rigorous training. Behind them, he noticed a carriage, splendidly adorned, moving slowly forward. Clearly, its occupant was someone of wealth or status, perhaps even nobility, given the escort of soldiers.

Just as Yang Lian was speculating, the curtain of the carriage was lifted.

A lovely young face appeared—an elegant maiden. A phoenix hairpin adorned her head, and though her face was round with a hint of youthful softness, it did nothing to diminish her beauty. Beside her sat a younger girl, dressed as a maid.

Yang Lian was taken aback when he saw the maiden with the phoenix pin. She was no ordinary girl—she was most likely of royal blood. For a moment, Yang Lian gazed at her without blinking, his mind racing.

A soft laugh came from within the carriage. The maid leaned close to the maiden and whispered, “Princess, look at that man; how terribly rude he is.”

Following her maid’s gesture, the maiden saw a tall, imposing man, his features noble but marred by a saber scar, staring at her. She, too, was momentarily startled.

“How bold this man is!” she exclaimed, her brows knit in displeasure. She instructed her maid, “Tell the guards to bring him to me.”

The maid giggled, stuck her head out to give the order, then looked back out the window—but Yang Lian had already vanished.

Indeed, Yang Lian had disappeared swiftly. Initially planning to stroll the streets and learn more about Southern Tang, he was overcome by hunger—always a glutton at heart, he decided to find food first. As it turned out, this was a wise choice, for soon after his disappearance, the princess’s guards searched the crowd in vain and eventually withdrew in frustration.

Yang Lian wandered through the town, seeking a clean and quiet inn. He walked along the canal, his gaze falling on a particularly grand establishment. The inn covered a large area and was lavishly decorated; two enormous stone lions guarded the entrance, and bright candles glowed in red lanterns, casting a dreamy light in the dusk.

Such a place would only accommodate the wealthy or noble, and with precious little money in his purse, Yang Lian did not even consider it. He continued along the wide flagstone road, about to pass by, when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw a man in blue running up with a broad grin, stopping three paces away.

“Are you Young Master Yang, by any chance?” the man asked.

Yang Lian narrowed his eyes, alert and ready to defend himself, fists clenched.

Seeing his wariness, the man quickly explained, “Please don’t be alarmed, Young Master. Someone has reserved our finest room for you at the inn and instructed me to watch for your arrival in Henglin these days.”

Yang Lian was surprised—someone had reserved a room for him? Who could it be? As he hesitated, the man continued, “Since receiving the order, I’ve waited at the door every day, hoping you would finally arrive!” He looked at Yang Lian hopefully, clearly fishing for a reward.

A faint smile tugged at Yang Lian’s lips. He had a suspicion—perhaps the person who took Zhang Qili had arranged this. But why? Regardless of their motives, one thing was clear: whoever it was meant him no harm. If they had, they could have killed him at any moment during the fight with the pirate. At worst, this person was neutral toward him.

After a brief pause, Yang Lian nodded. “Lead the way.” Since someone had arranged a room, it would be ungracious to refuse. Besides, he felt no fear.

The man in blue seemed momentarily displeased but quickly masked it with a smile. “This way, Young Master Yang,” he said, hurrying ahead.

Yang Lian followed. The man had clearly received ample payment for his trouble; otherwise, he would not have been so diligent. With a simple test, Yang Lian could tell he was merely a hired hand and had no direct connection to the person behind the scenes.