Chapter 9: Gloomy Winter

Arriving at the edge of the Southern Quarter, the earthen-yellow walls of the ward towered above, weathered in patches by wind and rain, their surface mottled and worn. Following the wall onward, one soon reached the main headquarters of the Shuijing Escort Agency. The agency’s buildings were wooden, with black beams and dark door frames; the doors were flung wide open, adorned with large bronze rings, and above them, a grayish-white signboard bore four bold black characters: “Shuijing Escort Agency,” written in upright script. The air was thick with an ancient, rustic charm.

“We’re here. This is our agency! We don’t open for business often, but a single commission keeps us fed for three years!” The Iron Lady patted her chest, visibly proud of her family’s establishment.

“What are you waiting for? Come in!”

She called out to Wu Yueling, who was still gazing at the signboard, and took A-Xue inside first. Wu Yueling, a little puzzled by the lack of a doorman, only realized upon entering that this was merely the outer gate; another stood within, and outside it waited two attentive servants, busy hefting the Iron Lady’s large black box containing her broadsword.

Wu Yueling, leading A-Xue inside, saw before her a tall two-story house. House it was, though its roof supported a bamboo-curtained pavilion. The Iron Lady guided Wu Yueling into the main hall, asked her to sit, and took A-Xue to another room to change clothes. Soon, servants brought out plates of food, and two brawny men entered. One, with thick brows and broad features, was the same burly fellow Wu Yueling had seen at the Gu family’s tower days before; the other, a steady, weathered middle-aged man, bore a kindly smile.

Once the hosts were seated, the middle-aged man greeted Wu Yueling with a smile, “So this is the remarkable young woman who fought off a gang single-handedly? She’s quite striking.”

“That’s her. Her name is Wu Yueling, and this is A-Xue. Father, I think they should join our escort agency!” Tie Lihua was full of admiration for Wu Yueling—such courage was rare, and she might well stand as her peer. She voiced her intentions openly.

“Ha! I think she’d make a fine wife for me!” Tie Dahuo, seated to the side and gnawing on a chicken leg, boomed like thunder, beckoning Wu Yueling with a broad hand.

“No way! I say she should study our Tie family’s internal arts and be my disciple. As for marrying you—absolutely not! You old ox, still craving tender grass? Go find a virtuous courtesan at the Red Thread Pavilion and redeem her if you must! Don’t set your sights on her.” The Iron Lady was instantly displeased—what was this about making her his wife?

“Are you really my sister? Why do you always take outsiders’ sides?” Tie Dahuo protested, waving his chicken leg.

Wu Yueling was speechless—what bizarre matters were these? She’d seen this rough man at the Gu family’s, devouring meat and wine like a human excavator; she should have guessed his character matched his appetite.

“With a body that sturdy, you’d crush the poor girl!”

Wu Yueling covered her face with her palm—what was the Iron Lady even saying? “Ahem, I must go find my mother. As for joining, I’ll need time to consider. Right now, I serve as a maid with the Gu family—they’ve shown me some kindness…”

“What? Our kindness counts for nothing, then? If not for us…” Tie Dahuo, upon hearing her reluctance, started to bellow.

“That’s enough. If it’s inconvenient for the young lady, we won’t press the matter. Should you ever need help, you’re welcome at the agency. And you, Miss A-Xue, would you be interested in joining?” The head of the agency, Tie Zhuangniu, raised his hand to silence Tie Dahuo, smoothing things over with genuine courtesy.

“I… I want my father…” A-Xue whispered, her voice trembling, tears streaming down her face.

A-Xue, now clad in Tie Lihua’s clothes, looked small and pitiful as she wiped her eyes with oversized sleeves, her delicate face streaked with tears and snot, all smeared on Tie Lihua’s clothing.

Wu Yueling then recounted the whole incident: A-Xue’s father had been beaten to death, and a man from the agency—Lin Chen—had checked for breath and confirmed he was dead.

Once the agency had arranged for A-Xue, Wu Yueling took her leave and made her way to the Gu family’s shop, seeking Housekeeper Fang. She found him chatting with Old Madam Lu, bringing news from the Gu family and offering comfort. Old Madam Lu, relieved to see Wu Yueling return unscathed, was greatly comforted. Wu Yueling thanked Housekeeper Fang, then helped Old Madam Lu out of the city. On the way, she answered the old woman’s questions, recounting how she’d outwitted the thugs—her tales made Old Madam Lu shake her head and laugh.

The next day, a crowd gathered at the city gate. Some impoverished scholars read aloud the latest news to illiterate woodcutters, merchants, and passersby. Wu Yueling stopped to listen—it turned out that the ruffians who’d beaten the straw sandal seller Xue Hongfu to death had been apprehended, and would be executed in the marketplace at the Southern Quarter in ten days.

She realized this must be about A-Xue’s father; this outcome was at least an answer of sorts, proof that the governor of Jingzhou was no inept official.

Wu Yueling visited the escort agency and found A-Xue in mourning. Some of the agency’s men were carrying a straw mat outside, with Tie Lihua and A-Xue following. Wu Yueling greeted Tie Lihua and silently joined the procession. Because of her own hesitation, she had failed to save the girl’s only family; her heart was in turmoil.

They left the city, heading in the opposite direction from Ten Mile Village, following the river through dense bamboo to a shabby bamboo hut—A-Xue’s home. The door hung open; A-Xue rushed inside and burst into fresh sobs.

Wu Yueling and Tie Lihua entered to find the place had been robbed. Wu Yueling looked around, noticing a hole in the leaky roof, water dripping through—she couldn’t help but sigh at the string of misfortunes: first orphaned, now robbed.

A-Xue wept. The Iron Lady, irked by her wailing, scolded her loudly, telling her not to be like ordinary women, to be strong—tears were a sign of weakness.

Wu Yueling thought to herself that the Iron Lady was no ordinary woman indeed; no wonder she’d earned a reputation as a fierce lady in Jingzhou.

A-Xue eventually stopped crying and explained that what had been stolen were some old poetry books her father had treasured—she’d read them herself and was literate because of them.

Tie Lihua searched the hut for tracks. Aside from some fresh, messy footprints, there was little evidence. From her experience, the culprit wasn’t a seasoned thief; the messy prints suggested guilt and panic.

On a nameless slope a mile from the hut, they buried A-Xue’s father. There were no relatives or friends to mourn him, only a few servants and strangers from the agency, with Wu Yueling and Tie Lihua there to support the orphaned girl.

Doves called from the grass; heavy clouds weighed upon the sky. Fresh earth covered old, black hair bidding farewell to white—a young daughter sending off her father.

A-Xue, her sorrow eased a little, thanked Wu Yueling for saving her life, offering to become her servant. Wu Yueling refused, suggesting instead that she join the escort agency and learn a skill from the Iron Lady; she was young, and this would give her a better chance in life. Following Wu Yueling would only mean hardship.

Tie Lihua agreed at once—A-Xue could be her disciple, though her tearful nature needed changing. With no business for half a year, the Iron family’s internal arts could be taught to women, though they were taxing on the body. With proper care, there would be no harm.

On the way back, Tie Lihua tried to tempt Wu Yueling with the prospect of learning their internal arts. Wu Yueling, however, already practiced the Pure Heart Sutra and was unmoved, saying nothing of her own internal skills.

In fact, Tie Lihua suspected as much, unsure if Wu Yueling had studied internal arts, so she offered her family’s as a test. Seeing her uninterested, she concluded someone else had already taught Wu Yueling, which reassured her—she was a promising talent, and it would be a pity to waste her. Tie Lihua told Wu Yueling she could come to her with any martial questions.

Curious, Wu Yueling asked about Tie Lihua’s own level. She learned that ordinary internal arts could produce first-class experts, but to ascend higher—becoming a grandmaster—required superior arts. Tie Lihua herself was nearly at grandmaster level, and praised her father, Tie Zhuangniu, saying he could defeat both her and her brother within fifty moves.

Wu Yueling thus realized that the head of the agency was at least a grandmaster. It would be a good place to seek refuge should the Cui family cause trouble in the future.

Back in the city, Wu Yueling bid farewell to A-Xue and Tie Lihua, returning to the Gu family shop to serve as a free and easy bookkeeper. She spent her days accounting, chatting, and relaxing; at home, she played the diligent “little wife,” cooking, cleaning, and caring for Old Madam Lu.

Meanwhile, in the Jingzhou city jail, Li Si and his seven cronies awaited interrogation with growing anxiety.

Before long, several figures appeared by torchlight. One, luxuriously dressed and somewhat plump, wearing a black official’s cap, was none other than Governor Liu Ji of Jingzhou.

“Governor Liu, this Liu Si shares your surname, yet he’s committed such evil—smashing stalls, inciting his gang to beat a man to death,” said the jailer, though his words only soured the governor’s mood.

Liu Ji glared at the jailer, suppressing his anger. No wonder this fool was stuck guarding cells—his tongue was hopeless. Why emphasize the shared surname? “Hang them up and beat them soundly!” he barked, flinging his sleeve and storming out, shooting the jailer another furious look.

Outside, Cui Lie, noticing Liu Ji’s displeasure, sidled up to the jailer and hissed, “You idiot! If you can’t speak properly, don’t speak. What’s this about shared surnames? You’ve insulted him! The man’s name is Li Si, not Liu Si! Useless!” With that, Cui Lie shook his head and hurried after the governor. The jailer, left baffled, turned his ire on Li Si and his men, snapping his whip and ordering them dragged out for a beating. Cries of pain and curses soon echoed from the cells.

Cui Lie caught up to Liu Ji and tried to placate him. “Governor, please don’t be angry. The jailer is as ignorant as a peasant. The culprit is Li Si, not Liu Si.”

“Oh? I thought so. How could a Liu commit such acts?”

“Indeed! Governor, the night is cold and your residence far. Why not honor my humble courtyard with your presence? I’ve invited Lan Xiaojing, the new courtesan of the Red Thread Pavilion, to host. There’ll be a warm fire, fine wine, and exquisite food. Pray, grant me the honor.”

“Very well, Master Cui. I’d be remiss to refuse your hospitality. I’ll spend the night at your home.”

Liu Ji arrived at the Cui family estate, and he and Cui Lie drank merrily. Midway through the feast, as the lamps were changed a second time, Cui Lie summoned Cui Miao, who was brought in looking utterly miserable.

Slightly drunk, Liu Ji inquired after Cui Miao’s condition, and Cui Lie told him the story: an incident with a village girl outside Jingzhou had nearly cost Cui Miao his future—such matters were infuriating, for the continuation of the family line was no trivial thing. Youthful high spirits were not a vice; if he fancied a girl, he might have made her a concubine, given her some money—both sides would be happy.

Liu Ji slapped the table in agreement, and Cui Lie flattered him further. In a few days, he would send someone to fetch the girl from Ten Mile Village and deal with her himself, hoping Liu Ji would look the other way. The governor readily agreed, and Cui Lie presented him with a hundred taels of gold. The conversation grew ever more amiable. When the banquet ended, Cui Lie ordered servants to tend to Liu Ji and sent in several beautiful maids to serve him for the night.

Days later, Li Si and his gang lay on straw in the jail, their clothes torn and bloodstained, groaning in pain. Cui Miao, now recovered, visited the prison to see his ‘adopted son’ Li Si—though in truth, Li Si merely called him that for favor. Facing execution, Li Si struggled up from the straw to beg Cui Miao for rescue, as did the other thugs, though Cui Miao only acknowledged Li Si.

The weather turned bitterly cold, with snow in the air and few people on the roads. Wu Yueling calculated their monthly expenses—three hundred copper coins sufficed for a modest life. As the cold deepened, she sometimes gathered firewood from the hills, piling it high behind the house.

A few more days passed. In the bleak, howling wind, seven battered prisoners knelt in the market at South Ward, death tokens on their backs. This was the very spot where Xue Hongfu had sold straw sandals and been murdered—a fitting place for justice to be done.

At noon, a northern wind whipped away all warmth from the watching crowd. In his sedan, Governor Liu received the report and ordered the execution.

A-Xue, led by Tie Lihua, found a high vantage point from which to watch, with Wu Yueling at her side, curious to see how justice was dispensed.

“No… that’s not right…” A-Xue muttered, her brow furrowing as she counted the condemned. “There’s one missing! One’s missing!”

Wu Yueling looked and indeed, one face was absent. “How could there be one less?”

“I remember—the missing one was their leader, the one who assaulted me. He ordered my father beaten to death…” A-Xue broke down in tears, drawing concerned looks.

Tie Lihua told her to stop crying and asked a guard to report to the governor, questioning the absence of a prisoner. The guard returned empty-handed.

Wiping her tears, A-Xue glanced to the side and suddenly spotted a familiar, nervous face in the crowd—the missing man, easily recognized despite his injuries. “There! There!” she cried.

Wu Yueling saw him at once, but Tie Lihua, unfamiliar with his face, could not find him. The man, alerted by the commotion, slipped away into the crowd and was gone before Wu Yueling could reach him.

The execution commenced. A-Xue, unable to watch, ran into the crowd, searching frantically for the man, but in the end, collapsed in despair, unable to rise.

Again, blood soaked the earth. The crowd dispersed, leaving only the bitter wind to howl—telling, perhaps, of injustices yet unrighted in the world.