Offending Lu Shang was like grabbing a thorn.
The incense took a full day and night to burn down, and she hadn’t eaten a single bite of food or drunk a single cup of tea before Lu Shang brought over the deed of indenture and forced her to sign it with her fingerprint.
She spoke in a tongue-twister fashion, saying, “This worthless life of yours was saved by the Master. Whether you sign the deed or not, you naturally belong to the Master. Your life is the Master’s, your person is the Master’s, your entire life is the Master’s. Whatever the Master wants you to do, you must do. This too is your fate.”
Then she added, “If you harbor any disloyal thoughts, I will personally throw you into Wei Ying, and you’ll go back to being a Yingji. Otherwise, I’ll simply sell you off at the slave market—no need for the Master to waste a single thought on you. Do you understand?”
A-Pan naturally understood.
The ideology of Qianjimen’s restoration was to cast aside human desire and will, and to absolutely obey and serve the Sect Master.
Success or death—that was the iron rule of Qianjimen.
Unwilling to keep listening to Lu Shang’s sharp and venomous words, A-Pan signed the deed without hesitation, handing her life over to Qianjimen.
Lu Shang didn’t like her, and so treated her with extreme harshness. Under the guise of training, she barely allowed A-Pan to sleep, drilling her from morning to night.
Training alongside A-Pan were seven or eight newcomers, all Zhongshan people who had been displaced abroad.
Qianjimen’s curriculum was heavy and its discipline severe, but no one made a fuss about leaving.
They knew what they were doing—watching for treachery, awaiting changes, navigating human relationships, observing the enemy’s intentions, to serve as spies. (From the third volume of the Six Secret Teachings, “Dragon Teachings”)
Yes, Qianjimen was Zhongshan’s intelligence organization.
Here they learned to identify poisons, use poisons, study lip-reading, throwing weapons, how to kill with knives, how to gather military and political intelligence—and also learned the seductive arts of courtesans and entertainers, those coquettish wiles.
Such training went on day and night, the schedule packed full.
No matter where they had been born, where they had grown up, what their origins were, or what aspirations they had held, they all came to recognize one thing here: better to die as warriors in battle than to live as Wangguonu.
Lu Shang never rested. She was A-Pan’s drill instructor, specifically tasked with overseeing and disciplining everything about A-Pan.
Qianjimen’s instructors were set up the same as the national academies of Zhongshan—they were simply in charge of teaching, discipline, and assessing diligence in studies.
What A-Pan feared most was Lu Shang’s “hawk-taming” method.
Even with the schedule already packed full, Lu Shang would still forbid her from sleeping for days on end.
While others slept soundly, she would remain awake, enduring right under Lu Shang’s watchful eye.
It was said to be for tempering her will, but what the real reason was—how could A-Pan not know?
It was simply personal vengeance dressed up as official business, using the opportunity to suppress her.
But there was nothing she could do about it. Among the newcomers, Instructor Lu had absolute power; no one could escape from under her five fingers.
A-Pan had heard from others about the time she herself had been made to kneel before incense, an incident that had escalated all the way to the Sect Master.
She heard that Senior Brother Fan had reported in the main hall, saying, “Master, A-Pan has been punished by Junior Sister Lu.”
The person in the main hall asked, “For what reason was she punished?”
“For the Master’s cloak.”
To have clashed with the senior members of the sect right from the start—this was hardly a glorious matter.
Fortunately, Senior Brother Fan was fair in his handling of affairs. He did not disparage her for her origins, nor did he shield Lu Shang out of old friendship.
She heard that Senior Brother Fan had said, “Junior Sister Lu wanted the Master’s cloak and tried to snatch it by force. A-Pan refused and protected it, nearly getting struck by Junior Sister Lu. Afterwards, she was punished by being made to kneel before incense.”
At the time, most of the newcomers assumed the Master would reprimand Lu Shang a few words, but he did not.
The Master in the main hall merely said, “She will face tenfold, hundredfold greater dangers in the future. No need to bother with this.”
The moment those words spread, Instructor Lu became even more reckless and unbridled.
Fortunately, compared to the others, A-Pan still had moments to catch her breath, not constantly under Lu Shang’s discipline.
Senior Brother Fan taught her to speak the language of Wei Guo and to write Wei Guo’s small seal script.
For lessons in rites, music, poetry, and books, others had dedicated instructors, but A-Pan was mostly taught by the Master himself.
A-Pan felt the Master treated her well. She never got enough sleep and was tense all day, and only in the Master’s presence did she find brief moments of relaxation.
Once relaxed, while writing seal script with her brush, she would often fall fast asleep slumped over the desk—yet the Master never once scolded her for it.
Among the newcomers who arrived around the same time, the Master treated only her somewhat differently.
He would quiz A-Pan on her lessons, repeatedly instructing her, telling her, “In the affairs of the three armies, nothing is closer than the spy,” teaching her the principle that better to die with honor than live in shame, and reminding her that she should always think of sacrificing herself without hesitation for the urgent needs of the nation.
Whenever this happened, Lu Shang, standing outside, would voice her disapproval, inevitably muttering, “The Master is wounded and should be resting quietly. The Houzheng will naturally teach her how to be a qualified agent.”
The position of Houzheng had originally been the one responsible for intelligence and reconnaissance in the Zhongshan military—gathering enemy intelligence abroad and maintaining networks of informants. After the fall of the nation, he had come to serve in intelligence organizations like Qianjimen.
If the Sect Master did not answer her words, Lu Shang would add another line: “Her skills are far inferior to the others. Why does the Master value her so highly?”
Yes, yes—Lu Shang’s contempt for A-Pan was nothing new. It had been going on for a long, long time.
Whenever she got the chance, she would always disparage, mock, and smear A-Pan in front of their master, lodging complaint after complaint against her.
She would say things like, “She’s from some backwater place, ignorant and clueless, doesn’t know anything. The Houzheng has a hard time teaching her, and scolds her every time. Watching it makes me anxious.”
Or else, “The girl has no skill, and she’s always slacking off. She even dozes off while listening to our master’s teachings. Master, just think—what must she be like in her usual lazy state?”
Sometimes she’d add, “She sleeps too much, has no manners, and a terrible memory. She can’t even recognize all the herbs, can’t learn the dances, and her handwriting looks like a dog’s scrawl. She can’t speak Wei Guo’s language properly either—she always has a Zhongshan accent. Wouldn’t that give away her origins the moment she opens her mouth? If Master is counting on her, you might as well hope a bolt of lightning strikes down the entire Wei Wuzu.”
On and on she went, always painting A-Pan as utterly worthless: “She’s timid as a mouse, can’t even hold a dagger steady, doesn’t dare throw a hidden weapon. Wouldn’t she be scared out of her wits before the King of Wei’s father? If Master is counting on her, you might as well hope the King of Wei’s father drops dead of a sudden illness first.”
Complaints like these weren’t just made behind her back—they were made to her face as well.
True, A-Pan had never been the competitive sort, but she felt she shouldn’t let her master’s teachings go to waste, so she wanted to do everything as well as she possibly could.
The Sect Master had once praised her for her extraordinary talent, yet Lu Shang painted her as a foolish, lazy woman.
She said what she would, and A-Pan simply knelt to the side with lowered brows, offering no defense.
Sometimes the Sect Master would ask, “In your view, is there not a single good thing about her?”
Lu Shang would choke on her words, and only after a long pause would she grit her teeth and reply, “She has nothing but a fox-like face, born only to seduce. Even Master… even Master…”
Before she could finish, the Sect Master cut her off. “Nonsense.”
The voice was light and unhurried, still carrying its usual gentle warmth, but it silenced Lu Shang at once.
She bowed her head, bent at the waist, clasped her fists in salute, and said, “This subordinate takes her leave,” before withdrawing from the main hall and obediently standing guard outside.
A-Pan thought to herself that her master treated her well, and so she must not let that kindness be in vain.
Once, her master asked her, “Do you know what the character ‘Pan’ in your name means?”
She thought for a moment, then spoke softly, “A-Pan left home at a young age, and my parents never told me. Perhaps they did, but I was too small then and don’t remember. Maybe they hoped I would become someone steadfast as a rock, unwavering in purpose.”
The other asked, “Unwavering in what?”
A-Pan looked up and met their gaze directly. “In Zhongshan. In my master.”
The other smiled and nodded, stroking her cheek, and praised her from the heart, “Firm as a rock, never to be forgotten. You are a good girl.”
Qianjimen taught practical skills, and what the Sect Master imparted to her were principles.
But some things the Sect Master could not teach.
For instance, Meishu.
For matters like that, it was always Lu Shang who came.