Sui Sui sat in the southern inn all afternoon. Until the black sun sank westward, her pot of tea long gone cold, she still hadn’t seen anyone resembling A Wu. With a sigh, she stood up, realizing she needed to relieve herself. But because she was so stingy, no one bothered to guide her properly—someone casually pointed her toward a latrine deep in the back alley.
Sui Sui hesitated, peeked in, and found there wasn’t even a door. Since she was disguised as a man, she couldn’t use it, so she held it in and turned back. At that moment, she saw someone in the narrow alley.
It was a youth. Tall and thin, standing by the side gate, counting money with the steward. Behind him was a yoke with buckets of water—he was a water seller. The steward counted coins, then suddenly slapped him, kicked him to the ground, and ordered servants to carry the water inside before walking off.
Sui Sui saw the boy lying silently on the ground. She rushed forward to help him up, turned his shoulder—and was stunned.
“A… A Wu!”
Truly, she had searched high and low, only to find him without effort. Even she could hardly believe it.
The boy’s nose and mouth were bleeding. He opened his eyes, stared at her in shock, then scrambled up to run. But Sui Sui chased him, grabbed him, and pinned him against the wall.
“Why are you running! A Wu, where have you been all these years! Your sister worried herself half to death—how did you end up like this! Speak! Don’t you recognize me?”
As she spoke, she noticed movement at the alley’s mouth. A Wu’s face was bruised, trembling, and unable to speak. She quickly wiped his blood with a handkerchief, then dragged him through the side gate back into the inn.
She told the steward: “Give me a private room. This one is mine today!”
The steward, seeing Sui Sui finally showing interest, was delighted. But when he looked closer, he was shocked. Even with his experience, he had never seen a customer ignore the courtesan boys and choose a servant. He muttered:
“Th-this… perhaps you should reconsider. We have all kinds of fine young men here—no need to pick someone like that—”
“It’s him. Hurry!”
The steward hesitated again: “But he’s not one of our servants. Just a water seller… not under our management!”
But Sui Sui was determined, practically abducting the boy. She dragged A Wu into the room, ordered hot water to be brought, shut the doors and windows tight—looking as though she intended to “bathe together before the rain and clouds.”
But instead of intimacy, Sui Sui only clutched A Wu’s collar and interrogated him.
After repeated questioning, A Wu finally broke down crying, fell to his knees, and said: “Sui Sui sister, I didn’t… I didn’t refuse to come home. I truly couldn’t. Sister, I was imprisoned, and even now, people are hunting me to kill me. I couldn’t drag you into it—sister, how is my sister now? How did you both end up in Dunhuang…”
Sui Sui instinctively let go, then quickly covered his mouth, eyes wide with fear, whispering: “Prison… why were you imprisoned? What did you do?”
“No! Nothing!” A Wu pulled her hand away, speaking urgently in a low voice: “I did nothing wrong, Sui Sui sister. It was those monks at Pagoda Temple. I went to Longxi, tried to borrow money from a friend to trade apples, and signed a contract for fifty strings of cash. Those villains tricked us illiterates, ruined us. We unknowingly signed usurious debts, couldn’t repay, and had to pawn ourselves. Many people suffered the same—lost their land, lost themselves. Later, some rose up, tried to petition the prefecture, saying the more people, the better. I joined them, but somehow we were arrested instead… Sister, believe me, I never did anything bad!”
Sui Sui was stunned, unsure whether to believe him. She steadied herself and asked: “Then… how did you get out?”
“Last year, an earthquake struck Longxi. The emperor, seeking to appease Heaven, pardoned a batch of prisoners. We were released, but we had offended Pagoda Temple. My friend was killed by them. I fled all the way to Dunhuang. How could I dare seek out my sister?”
Sui Sui stared at him for a long moment, then whispered through clenched teeth: “Enough… for your sister’s sake, I’ll believe you this once. We live now in West Market, Little Flower Branch Alley. Tonight, go back to your place. Wander outside for two days, then come at night. Don’t let anyone see you.”
When the servant brought water, Sui Sui shoved A Wu behind the screen, sat far off on the windowsill, turning her face away: “Bathe quickly. I won’t look.”
Strangely, though Cui Qiao was already a beauty, A Wu as a man was ten times more striking. Dirty and ragged, he seemed ordinary. But once he washed away the grime, his pale skin and large black eyes shone brighter than Li Chongjun’s. His long hair tied casually, even his tattered clothes looked elegant.
Late at night, Sui Sui sent A Wu quietly downstairs. The steward, seeing him, was dumbfounded—regretting he hadn’t discovered this hidden gem earlier, to recruit him as a courtesan.
Sui Sui paid the bill and slipped out into the night.
Two men drinking downstairs looked at each other in confusion. One whispered: “A Cheng, should we… report this to His Highness?”
The other hesitated: “N-no, better not. His Highness has just arrived in Longxi, already troubled. Let’s not bring him bad luck.”
The two attendants thought it would be fine—Miss Sui wasn’t in danger, and if they kept quiet, no one would know. But two days later, they realized something was wrong.
One night, that youth crept to the back door of Sui Sui’s house, knocked twice. Sui Sui opened the door and pulled him in without a word. From then on, he never came out again.
Half a month later, at the Longxi yamen, attendant A Cheng arrived from Dunhuang to report to Prince Wei.
If Gao Lang had been present, he would have interrogated him carefully first, instructing him on what to say. But Gao Lang was absent; only Gao Cheng stood outside.
Gao Cheng, dull and not socially adept, asked Li Chongjun for permission, then let A Cheng into the study.
Li Chongjun was in the main hall, reading case files. The sky was dark, the room vast, cold even in midsummer. He wore a dark-blue robe, leaning over the desk, a long scroll spread open, one hand braced on the corner, the other holding a brush, seemingly deep in writing. At the sound, he lifted his head, expression calm, like white jade submerged in cold water.
A Cheng said: “Greetings, Your Highness. I have little to report. As for Miss Sui…” He truly didn’t know how to begin. Hesitating, Li Chongjun already frowned.
A Cheng hurriedly said: “Miss Sui is well! Only… only now there is another person at her house…”
Li Chongjun raised his brows.
A Cheng gritted his teeth: “Last time she went to the southern inn in Beili to drink, there she… spent half the night with a water boy. Afterwards, that man moved into her courtyard…” He lowered his head, not daring to look at Li Chongjun. As he spoke, his hair stood on end, and his voice grew weaker.
But when he finished, Li Chongjun said nothing.
The silence was eerie, like a dull knife cutting flesh.
At that moment, another guard entered, bowed quickly, and reported: “Your Highness, we found him. Of those imprisoned five years ago, aside from those who died of illness or suicide, those released last year were mostly killed by Pagoda Temple. Finally, we found one who escaped to Dunhuang. He survived by selling sweet water. I traced him to a southern inn in Beili. The manager said he was last seen half a month ago, when a young wine seller bought him for the night. It seems he sold himself. Afterwards, he vanished. I request Your Highness send more men to search Dunhuang thoroughly—”
He was cut off by the sharp crack of something breaking.
A Cheng looked up and saw that the ebony-and-brass brush shaft had snapped in Li Chongjun’s hand. The other guard, terrified, fell silent, glancing uncertainly between Li Chongjun and A Cheng.
“No need.” Li Chongjun straightened, tossed the broken remains onto the desk, and casually wiped the ink from his fingers. “We’ve already found him, haven’t we?” Then he ordered A Cheng: “Take them to Little Flower Branch Alley. Bring the man here.”
His face showed no expression, but the curve of his lips was twisted, eerie—half smile, half sneer—that made A Cheng’s blood run cold.