The flimsy robe made her cold. A-Pan scrambled off the bed in panic and prostrated herself on the ground, pleading in a low voice, “A-Pan cannot learn it. Please punish me, Master.”
The lingering presence that refused to leave had returned at some point—perhaps she had never truly gone far—and now spoke again from the doorway in that seductive, strange tone, “If you cannot learn it, then you must be punished severely.”
A-Pan would rather be punished than endure torment on her master’s bed.
A-Pan knew her master had always treated her with leniency.
See—he had finally concluded this day’s trial, letting out a low sigh and permitting her to leave. “Enough. Go.”
A-Pan scrambled to her feet, clutching the robe around her, and ran out barefoot.
Lu Shang pushed the door open and entered, but stopped abruptly mid-step. She stood frozen for a long moment before asking in a faint voice, “Does Master wish for a fragrant orchid bath?”
No voice was heard in response, but presumably he nodded. Then Lu Shang spoke again, “Master should order her to be taken to the water dungeon.”
Then they heard the Sect Master speak with firm resolve, “Let her reflect in the Anshi.”
Ah, reflection in the Anshi.
That was the lightest punishment in Qianjimen.
Lu Shang grew anxious. “Why does Master always indulge her?”
But no further words came from the figure on the bed.
Lu Shang closed the door and withdrew from the inner chamber, ordering servants to bring the fragrant bath upstairs. Then it was time to take A-Pan back to Qianjimen.
None of the three was happy in the end, and A-Pan could not calm her heart for a long while, simply following along obediently.
In front of Lu Shang, she had never had much to say—indeed, there was nothing to say between them.
Whenever Instructor Lu opened her mouth, it was like drawing a sharp blade, one that only stabbed at people’s hearts again and again.
Take now, for example: the moment they left the Nülü, Lu Shang began to wound. “You dirtied Master.”
A-Pan lowered her brows and gathered her robe, letting Lu Shang say whatever cutting words she pleased.
The more A-Pan remained silent, the darker Lu Shang’s expression became, cold and frozen as if covered in a thick layer of frost. “Do you know who Master is?”
Since Lu Shang asked a question, A-Pan answered, “He is the Sect Master of Qianjimen.”
Who in Qianjimen didn’t know that? Even she had known it from the moment she first entered the sect.
Lu Shang stared blankly into the distance. “Why did Master take a liking to someone as foolish as you?”
A-Pan stood in silence, waiting for her to continue.
Lu Shang had a quick temper, and A-Pan knew she would keep talking.
Sure enough, Lu Shang drew a deep breath, then let out a bitter laugh. “He is Huai Wang.”
A-Pan’s eyes welled with tears, and she dared not lift her head.
Oh, Huai Wang—the Huai Wang of Huai Wang’s third year.
She had only known that he possessed an imposing bearing that commanded respect without anger, never knowing he was the sovereign of Zhongshan.
Xiao Yannian, courtesy name Qizhi.
What a beautiful name. What a cold, heartless courtesy name.
Along the way, past the market streets and up the mountain paths, her mind drifted in a haze.
It felt as though she had thought of many things, yet when she came back to herself, her mind was a blank—as if she had thought of nothing at all.
The moment they arrived at Qianjimen, they went straight to the Anshi.
Before pushing A-Pan inside, Lu Shang shot her a venomous glare. “They really should have thrown you into the Nülü. Within three days, you’d have become nothing but a dog that knows only how to wag its tail and beg for scraps. Why waste all this effort? You’ve got a pretty face, but it’s utterly useless.”
A-Pan felt a pang of melancholy. She thought, is that so?
No.
She had spent three days in Wei Ying and had not become a dog that only knew how to wag its tail and beg.
She did everything to the best of her ability, yet still failed the trial.
Was she truly of no use at all?
No.
It was simply that no one else had encountered Xiao Yannian.
The Anshi was dark and sunless, located beneath Qianjimen, with only a single opening less than two inches wide, letting in the faintest sliver of light from outside.
Lu Shang forbade anyone from bringing her food, forbade anyone from speaking to her, and stationed herself just outside the door, lounging boldly as she guarded it tightly.
It was said that only Lu Shang had never been sent to the Anshi.
Everyone else, without exception—even Meng Yafu and Senior Brother Fan—had been made to reflect in the Anshi.
Besides, having failed the trial, punishment was only fitting, so A-Pan felt no resentment.
But after two days of reflection, she had not arrived at any particular revelation.
When she emerged from the Anshi, she was so weak she could barely stand.
Lu Shang asked her, “Have you learned it now?”
A-Pan leaned against the dark, ice-cold iron door of the Anshi and looked at her calmly. “Yes.”
Lu Shang sneered. “What’s so hard about Meishu? You were born a seductress. As long as you’re willing, there’s nothing you can’t learn.”
Perhaps that was true.
Whatever she said, let her say it.
Once the trial at the Nülü concluded, the fellow disciples who had trained alongside A-Pan gradually departed one by one to fulfill their respective missions, and those who remained grew fewer and fewer.
But since leaving the Anshi, A-Pan had not seen Xiao Yannian again.
For whatever reason, Xiao Yannian never troubled her again, and Lu Shang no longer insisted on taking her to the Nülü.
When the twelfth month arrived, they began assigning her performing artists to train with.
Presumably because they felt her Meishu had not progressed well, they shifted focus to the Lüyaowu.
Lu Shang and the performing artist in charge of instruction would not allow her to eat her fill, saying, “Why should a person eat so much? Eat a body full of flesh—what can you possibly accomplish with that?”
She also had to be reminded from time to time, “In the future, you’re going to be a dancer. In all my years, I’ve never seen a fat dancer, let alone one fit to be sent before the King of Wei. You wouldn’t even make it past the gates of the Bureau of Music and Dance procurement office.”
Regardless, once the twelfth month arrived, the year’s end came quickly.
When she was young and living in the mountains, her foster parents had started stocking up on New Year’s goods early.
Though her foster father taught, he also served in the household of a noble in Lingshou during ordinary times.
He was a retainer, and before the New Year he would always buy firecrackers in Lingshou and bring back cattle, sheep, and cured meats gifted by the nobles.
With the New Year’s goods in hand, A-Pan and Yun Jiang were always overjoyed.
They would sit around the fire with their foster mother, cutting red window decorations. Their foster mother would steam a great many flower-shaped buns in advance, and the stewed beef and mutton would hang under the eaves, enough to eat through the entire first month.
But at Qianjimen, there was not a trace of New Year’s spirit.
In the days approaching New Year’s Eve, the situation suddenly grew tense.
Meng Yafu told A-Pan that a hidden sentry had reported the King of Wei was coming north on an inspection tour of Zhongshan Gudi, and his carriage had already reached Shaqiu.
The people of Qianjimen were secretly tracking him, looking for a good opportunity to assassinate him, and she was ordered to be fully prepared.
A-Pan had always thought she would become a dancer in the future; she never imagined she would still be sent to kill.
And so she spent the rest of the year in restless anxiety.
On New Year’s Eve, sure enough, she was taken by Lu Shang and Meng Yafu onto a carriage, traveling through the night toward Changcheng.
Meng Yafu wore a grave expression. “Our people have sent reliable intelligence that the King of Wei will rest at the post station in Changcheng tonight, but he is surrounded by many generals and hidden guards. Our people cannot get close, so it won’t be easy to make a move.”
Lu Shang, too, rarely spoke with his usual biting coldness—likely because of the danger of the mission, his words were unusually serious and solemn. “You’ll disguise yourself as a maidservant, slip into the post station, and assassinate him while he bathes.”
A-Pan’s heart was in turmoil. She clutched the hem of her robe, crumpling it in her palm. “Senior Brother Meng, I’m afraid I can’t do it.”
Meng Yafu said, “What is there to fear? Just be loyal to your master and don’t think about anything else.”
That was true. To charge through encirclements, to brave naked blades, to hold lightly to one’s life yet keep faith, to sacrifice oneself in loyalty—these were things Xiao Yannian had taught her from the very beginning.
A-Pan lowered her head gloomily and said nothing more.
The carriage sped along the small road, smooth all the way, passing no checkpoints, and they managed to enter the post station before the Wei carriage arrived.
Qianjimen had far-reaching abilities, and Meng Yafu was highly skilled as well. Without the slightest effort, he bound and captured a maidservant, and all A-Pan had to do was change into the maidservant’s robes to easily slip into the post station.
A short blade was rolled into a thin blanket and handed to A-Pan. After making the arrangements, they did not linger and withdrew early, retreating far away, leaving her alone on the second floor of the post station, waiting in trepidation.
Though Lu Shang had always looked down on her, he likely understood the danger of this assassination, and before leaving, he unexpectedly offered a word of advice. “In our line of work, you only get one chance in this lifetime. Watch your timing yourself—either you kill the King, or the King kills you.”
Yes, A-Pan knew.
If she couldn’t kill the King, then she would be the one to die.
And so she sat alone, heart pounding, unable to find peace.
Outside the window, the daylight dimmed inch by inch. Snow pellets rattled noisily against the layered eaves and roof tiles of the post station. By the hour of xu, the clamor of carriages and horses could be heard from afar.
On this New Year’s Eve, Changcheng was frozen in ice and snow. A-Pan’s body was taut, a thin sheen of sweat upon her.
The great wind blew the snow, startling sand whipping through the air.
The first firework of the post station rose suddenly, bursting with a bang in the night sky.
The King of Wei’s carriage had arrived.