LBLCPCB C10

Chapter 10

As the saying goes, speak of Cao Cao and he appears. Just as they’d been discussing it, Qu Zhoubai walked in with men, announcing:

“Brought him back.”

Zhu Song’s gaze lifted. Before him stood an old man, hair entirely white, clothing ragged, back bent, eyes clouded. The man trembled uncontrollably. Entering, he fell heavily to his knees.

“This humble one greets… greets my lords.”

Zhu Song frowned. Such a man was the master of Zhuqing Courtyard?

He asked directly: “Zhuqing Courtyard—yours?”

Li Mingsi raised his muddled eyes, confusion writ plain. “What… courtyard? This poor one has never heard of such. I only own a thatched hut in my village.”

Zhu Song pressed: “Do you know Lin Feng?”

“I have heard of him,” Li stammered. “But… I’ve never seen him.”

Zhu Song’s brow furrowed sharply. He turned to Qu, who hurried to explain: “I scoured the city’s household registry—there is only this one Li Mingsi.”

If not a registered resident of the capital, their task was even harder.

Zhu said only: “Come—we’ll interrogate Lin Feng.”

Side by side with Gu Huaiyu, he strode off. Qu called after them, “What of him?”

Neither answered. Watching them disappear, Qu looked again at the old man trembling on his knees, and sighed.

At night, Zhu and Gu returned to the prison. Lin Feng was lying on the pallet but not asleep. Hearing stirrings, he quickly leapt up.

“My lords.”

They entered his cell. Zhu immediately asked: “Who is the master of Zhuqing Courtyard?”

Lin’s eyes flickered, then he denied: “I… I know nothing of what you say.”

Zhu saw the lie but did not yet call it. Instead: “Who helped you disguise as Qingxing?”

“I came up with that myself. No one aided me.”

“You mean you can practice disguise arts?”

Lin’s eyes flicked again. Zhu slammed the table, voice raised.

“If you refuse to speak truth, I will submit a memorial that this case be closed. Then the grievance of thirty‑one Lin souls will be buried forever in earth.”

Terrified, Lin collapsed to his knees, stammering without words. Gu Huaiyu’s voice softened.

“Thirteen years gone—the trail so faint, every detail is precious. No matter what became of you since, you came forward seeking justice. If the man behind you is unconnected, we will not expose him.”

Lin hesitated still. Zhu tried again, differently.

“Tell me this—why, when your memory returned, did you not appeal to him for help? With his resources, you need not have risked disruption of the capital.”

Lin whispered: “He… had already done much. I did not wish to burden him.”

“So then when you appeared as Qingxing, it wasn’t him behind you—but someone else?”

Reluctantly, Lin nodded. “Yes. After leaving Zhuqing Courtyard, I had no home, drifting till I stumbled upon a wilderness grave mounds. There I met a man. Believing me near death, he asked my last wish. Overcome, I told him of my family. It was his idea to don the monster guise. It was him who disguised my face.”

“Who is he? Name and dwelling?”

A shake of the head. “He never told me. He wore a mask always. I only knew he was male, about seven chiⁱ tall, voice of the capital.”

“Possibility he was of Zhuqing Courtyard too?” Zhu pressed.

Lin paused—then shook his head firmly. “No.”

“You are certain?”

“I am certain.”

Zhu asked no further, leaving the cell. Gu cast Lin a long, weighing look before following.

Walking outside, Zhu said, “I’m going to Zhuqing Courtyard.”

“I’ll join you,” Gu answered.

They took yamen men with them.

The courtyard lay pitch dark. Guards knocked, but none answered. Zhu shoved forward. “Out of the way.” With one kick the gates swung in.

Silence within.

“Search,” the order came.

Lanterns bobbled through the halls. Zhu and Gu went to the main hall. The chamber was stripped bare save desk and cabinet. No sign of struggle. Dust filmed everything. Clearly, all was long prepared.

Turning about the chamber, Zhu noted aloud: “Huanghuali table. Phoenix wood cabinet.”

Gu’s eyes narrowed. “Not mere merchant, then. Only the highest officials can own such.”

A quick circuit revealed little else.

Back at the Court, Qu had already left. Zhu turned to Gu: “I will visit Lin Feng once more.”

Gu nodded. “I will find Old Qu.”

Masters of Zhuqing Courtyard would not be simple. Lin had no reason to forgo such a backer—unless forced. Too abnormal.

It was midnight when Zhu reached the prison again. Approaching, cries sounded within: “Assassin!”

He dashed inside. Guards surrounded a peasant‑clad woman, a basket on her arm like a visitor. She eyed them warily. And in the neighboring cell, Lin Feng lay collapsed. No blood yet visible.

“Seize her!” Zhu commanded.

The woman’s hands darted to her basket, pulling a glittering dagger—and lunged. Thin but deadly, she fought with skill. Two guards fell back under her blows.

Zhu retreated warily, but she lunged for him with blade high.

“Lord! Lord!” the downed guards shouted.

She grew fiercer at their cries. But as her blade swung close—suddenly, the tables turned. Zhu grasped her wrist, twisting savagely. Bone cracked. She gasped as the knife clattered to the floor. With a kick, he dropped her kneeling.

“Check Lin Feng!” he barked.

From the ground, Lin coughed upright. He pulled from his robe a shattered mirror armor plate⁲—the blade had struck there. He lived.

Zhu exhaled relief. The assassin glared. “You tricked me.”

Zhu’s lip curled. “Trick? Capturing assassins is no trick. Now speak—who sent you?”

She spat, “Dream on.”

He smiled grim. “You’ve yet to see Dali Si’s means.”

Her jaw tightened. A moment later, blood spilled from her lips. Still she hissed, “Dream!” and collapsed.

“Damn it,” Zhu cursed. She had hidden poison. He threw her down. “Fetch Xu Lizhu.”

While waiting, he spoke with Lin. “You came prepared.”

Lin answered vaguely: “If one does not wish to die, one must prepare.”

“You expected an attempt?”

He shook his head.

Zhu turned to guards. “How did she enter?”

One dropped in terror. “My lord, she claimed to visit Zhou Laosan. I pitied her and let her in.”

Extra prison visits, bribes—they all knew. Zhu usually ignored it. He extended his hand.

“What did she pay you?”

The guard shakenly produced a white jade ring. Zhu appraised it: valuable but ordinary in style. Suspicious. He pocketed it. “This matter is far from over.”

The guard begged weeping: “Spare me, lord! I will never again—”

“Suspended for now. After the affair passed, we’ll revisit,” Zhu said crisply. Mercy indeed. The guard bowed gratefully.

Soon Xu Lizhu and Xu Songlan hurried in, clothes still disheveled. “What happened?”

Zhu pointed to the assassin. “Examine her.”

Morticians should have done it, but they’d gone home early of late. Better not delay.

The Xus set to work without protest. Soon diagnosis: crane‑red poison (鶴頂紅)⁳, concealed within a hollow tooth.

“Scars on chest and back—but shallow, signs of training. Calluses on palms confirm. A trained fighter,” they said.

Zhu asked, “By your opinion—her status?”

They glanced, then Xu Lizhu dared say: “A death‑soldier.”⁴

Zhu caught Lin’s eyes flicker. He was not shocked. Not surprised, either.

“A death‑soldier,” Zhu echoed coldly. “Law decrees: Only officials of rank three or above may keep such. No more than ten.”

At this, the Xu brothers blanched pale. They knew too: this woman came for Lin.

Zhu dismissed them. “Leave. I’ll speak with Lin alone.”

“Yes.”

Footnotes

1. Seven chi (七尺) — ancient Chinese measurement; 1 chi ~ 33cm. Seven chi ~ 2.3 meters in modern measure, but culturally “seven chi man” implies tall (~1.7–1.8m).

2. Mirror armor (護心鏡) — a round metal or jade plate worn under robes to protect the chest. Often used by warriors or wealthy men as personal armor.

3. Crane red (鶴頂紅) — legendary lethal poison of wuxia and folklore, said to kill swiftly. Mostly myth, here means a fast‑acting suicide poison concealed in tooth.

4. Death‑soldier (死士) — private warrior bound to their master by oath, often to die on command; ancient Chinese law regulated that only very high nobles could legally keep a handful.