Chapter Nine: Assassination

The ox cart gradually came to a stop by the banks of the Xi River. Here stood the largest and busiest dock in Yixing, with more than twenty berths lined up in a row—some official, some privately owned. Massive mooring stones dotted the riverbank, and boats of every kind—single-sailed and double-sailed junks, large cargo ships, swift vessels, little skiffs—came and went upon the water. Calls rang out, the din of unloading cargo mingled with shouts of dispute, the clatter of haggling and counting echoed all around. The scene before him teemed with people, shoulder to shoulder, such that one's eyes could scarcely take it all in.

Xu You stepped down from the ox cart, casting his gaze left and right. Whether it was merely his imagination or not, he could not help but feel as if he were striding through the set of some ancient drama, alive with the spirit of a bygone age. Yet the lilting accents, touched with the cadence of Wu dialect, made it clear as day that this was no illusion, but the true past itself. Following Feng Tong, he arrived at a spacious private dock—a privilege reserved for only the most eminent clans and wealthy households. Unlike the chaos of the neighboring berths, here a tranquil and dignified silence prevailed, exuding an air of unspoken luxury and grace.

Moored before them was a double-decked ship, more than ten zhang in length and three in width. The prow bore the image of a mythic bird-beast, a token of reverence to the river god. Unlike the single- and double-masted vessels nearby, this ship carried three masts, each hoisting sails of different sizes. There were no elaborate carvings or painted ornamentation—no blue canopies or crimson awnings—yet the vessel gave an impression of grandeur and steadiness, much like the Yuan family itself: reserved, never ostentatious.

“Sir, please board the ship.”

Feng Tong made a courteous gesture. Xu You lingered for a moment at the water’s edge, but in the end did not look back, boarding the vessel without hesitation. Qiu Fen, however, could not muster the same resolve. She turned, gazing back at the place of her birth, her eyes full of reluctant longing and an attachment she could not shake.

“Hurry up, don’t miss the auspicious hour!”

Feng Tong snapped impatiently. Qiu Fen replied not a word, but turned away, bowed her head, and hurried after Xu You into the cabin, not sparing Feng Tong a glance. Feng Tong snorted and said to his attendant, “Chu barbarians will always be Chu barbarians. If one of our Yuan household’s maids behaved so rudely, she’d have been beaten to death long ago!”

The attendant smiled obsequiously. “Indeed, sir, it’s all thanks to your management that we know proper manners. Out in the world, we’ll never bring shame to our master.”

Feng Tong nodded in satisfaction, strode up the gangplank, and with a wave of his hand, commanded, “Untie the lines, raise the anchor!”

The ship made its way upriver, following the winding Xi for over twenty li until they reached Red Leaf Ford. Here, the river narrowed, hemmed in by sheer cliffs, and the current raged like a waterfall—a place of daunting peril. It was said that even red leaves struggle to fly here; no vessel, large or small, could cross without being towed by trackers along the banks. As the shipmaster haggled with the haulers on the shore, Xu You left the cabin and stood at the prow. The thunderous roar of the rapids filled his ears, and as he gazed into the endless expanse of water, he knew not what thoughts stirred in his heart.

Soon, the price was settled. The haulers, sturdy men, slung thick ropes across their shoulders and secured them to either side of the ship, then made their way along the cliff edges. There was no real path—one hand gripped the fissures in the rock, while the other steadied a plank strapped across their backs, the rope fastened to either end. Their feet trod over jagged pebbles, often splashed by the spray, every muscle straining to keep the rope taut and pull the ship forward.

It was a contest of human strength against the force of nature. The sudden display of raw muscle astounded Xu You, who had never witnessed such a sight. He waved the shipmaster over and asked, “Are these men trackers?”

“They are indeed the trackers of Red Leaf Ford, sir.”

“Why aren’t they wearing clothes?” Xu You was puzzled, for all of them were stark naked—not even a scrap of cloth, nor the merest grass ring at the waist.

The shipmaster laughed. “Sir is a man of means and might not know the ways of common folk. Trackers are poor men. If they wore clothes, sweat and salt would soak them, and the chafing of the ropes would wear them out in days. How could they afford such expense? Moreover, they must constantly wade into the water; to undress and dress again would waste precious time. Their work takes them alternately on land and in water. If they wore clothes, they’d be forever wet and dry, making them prone to sickness. So it is better to go as they are, bare as the day they were born.”

Here was knowledge born of life itself. Had he not heard this today, Xu You thought, no amount of reading could have taught him such things. He noticed the shipmaster’s refined manner and found himself curious. “These ropes look sturdy. Are they made of hemp?”

“These are special vines from Yizhou, not hemp.”

Yizhou—Sichuan, Xu You recalled, thinking of the rattan-armored soldiers in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. “Are these the vines from trees?”

The shipmaster patiently replied, “Not quite. The ropes are crafted from carefully selected strips of Ci bamboo, woven together. They are both tough and resistant to water, which is why they are used as trackers’ ropes.”

“I see…”

He had barely finished speaking when a low shout sounded behind him: “Watch out!”

Before Xu You could react, a flash of sword-light arced through the air, passing so close to his nose that he felt the wind of its passage as it struck toward the left rear of his head.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sound of metal clashing rang in his ears, like ten thousand cats scratching at rusted iron. Goosebumps prickled his skin. Fortunately, his temperament—honed in a previous life—kept his features calm, betraying no fear.

The sword glimmered and vanished.

Turning slowly, Xu You beheld a middle-aged man clad in crimson armor: thick brows, broad eyes, a dignified countenance, though short in stature—barely reaching Xu You’s chest—yet holding a sword that gleamed like a mirror. At his feet lay three red arrows, scattered, their design unusual: instead of the typical triangular point, each arrowhead curved like a crescent moon, the shafts shorter than usual and lacking feathers at the tail.

Assassins?

Xu You understood at once just how perilous his situation had been. Setting aside his lingering fear, he clasped his hands in thanks to the man, saying, “My deepest gratitude, sir, for your timely aid. May I ask your name?”

“I am Zuo Wen, first military captain of the Yuan household.”

To clarify, Zuo Wen was one of Yuan Jie’s private retainers. At this time, the great clans organized their retainers as private armies: from general, to deputy, to captain, and below captain was the rank of military candidate. Yet such positions existed only within the clan, unrecognized by the court. In times of chaos, however, these retainers could be transformed overnight into elite, battle-hardened troops, no less powerful than any regular army—a foundation on which the aristocratic order had rivaled imperial power for centuries.

“Captain Zuo, your skill is truly remarkable—one sword to break three arrows. Such steadiness of wrist is worthy of the fifth rank, a true minor master!” Though Xu You had lost his martial skill, his discerning eye remained. Zuo Wen, with but a single sword, had struck down three swift arrows from different angles in an instant, all without a hint of breathlessness or a single tremor—strength not to be underestimated.

“You flatter me!” There was a flicker of delight in Zuo Wen’s eyes. Xu You’s reputation as a prodigy among the younger generation was well known; to receive his praise was a rare honor.

“In truth, I was reckless. When I saw how composed you were in the face of danger, I knew you had everything under control. With your mastery of the White Tiger Force, you could have dispatched the Four Demon Arrows with a flick of your fingers. But as this is the Yuan family’s ship and you are our guest, I could not let your hands be sullied.”

Of course, Xu You would never admit that he was now no stronger than an ordinary man, and that his earlier composure was only because he had not noticed the danger at all. Yet his skin was thick; he offered a slight smile, which in the eyes of others made his poise all the more admirable. Pointing to the crescent-shaped arrows on the ground, he asked, “The Four Demon Arrows—is that their name?”

“No, the Four Demon Arrows refers to four people: Flying Demon, Killing Demon, Moon Demon, and Shadow Demon.” Zuo Wen stamped his foot, flipping an arrow into his hand. He pointed to the crescent-shaped head. “This is the Moon Demon’s signature arrow—red shaft, no fletching, the head an inch and a half long, eight-tenths wide, coated with deadly poison that kills on contact.”

Xu You followed the direction of his finger and saw a faint, dark-brown stain on the crescent head—a sure sign of poison.

“Sir, the Four Demon Arrows always work together. If the Moon Demon has revealed himself, the others must be lurking nearby. I urge you to return to the cabin for your safety.”

“No need!” Xu You smiled. “With you here, those petty villains can do nothing.”

Zuo Wen, however, was not so sanguine. “You are a nobleman, unused to the ways of the underworld. These four are infamous—not even a true minor master could be certain of escaping their assassins.”

“Oh? Have they killed many?”

Zuo Wen shook his head, face grave. “No, since their emergence, they have slain only seven people.”

Xu You was about to ask who those seven were, when Feng Tong, having received word, rushed from the cabin. Seeing Xu You unharmed, he sighed in relief, then turned on Zuo Wen in fury. “How do you guard this ship? For an assassin to sneak aboard and attack—how could you not notice?”

Though Zuo Wen, as a retainer, ranked above Feng Tong the steward, both were ultimately dependents of the Yuan family, their status determined by favor. Feng Tong, though a servant, was Yuan Jie’s trusted confidant, and thus far outranked a mere military candidate. Thus, Zuo Wen dared not protest the rebuke. “Yes, I am at fault for my oversight.”

“Hmph!” Feng Tong was about to continue, but Xu You intervened, saying, “Steward Feng, these arrows were not fired from this ship, but from among the other vessels along the bank. The fault is not Captain Zuo’s—if blame is due, it is mine… I am the trouble that has drawn them here.”