Songlim Garden in Chuzhou (6)

At dusk, as the hour of You began, Songlim Academy in Qingliu County, Chuzhou.

Among every academy in Chuzhou and Qingliu County alike, it ranked among the three largest and most storied.

Shhk. Shh-shh.

Beneath a plaque bearing the characters for Songlim Academy in bold, vigorous strokes, a middle-aged laborer was sweeping around the main gate.

Jin Myeong's party had arrived.

Jong Deok, Wang Zhen and his two companions, and Jeong Go had remained at the county yamen on a separate assignment. In their place, County Magistrate Yang Hong and two other Qingliu officials had come along.

As the party drew up before the main gate, the laborer stopped his broom and turned to look them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over.

"Young masters, who might ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you be lookin' f— aigoo! Your Honor! You've come?"

The middle-aged laborer spotted Yang Hong among the group, started in surprise, and ducked his head.

"Ahem. Have the chivalrous guests of the Divine Miracle Zhuge Clan arrived at Songlim Academy?"

"Ah, that's right, Your Honor. Young guests from the Zhuge Clan came by yesterday, they did."

The laborer nodded vigorously, recalling the handsome young men and women he had seen the day before.

While he spoke, Jin Myeong studied the man from head to heel. The laborer's breathing and movements were no different from any ordinary commoner's, and the taiyang points at his temples did not bulge.

"Are they inside now?"

"Yes, yes! They surely are. I heard they'll be taking supper with the headmaster. Please, go on in. Shall this humble one send word ahead?"

"That won't be necessary. Carry on."

"Yes, Your Honor."

The laborer bowed again and again as he stepped aside. Jin Myeong's party passed through the open gate, and the laborer planted his broom and watched their retreating backs.

"Whose children are those? They're all so strikingly handsome. The magistrate really is a man of rank—are they all officials? He's trailing a whole string of them."

Meanwhile, Jin Myeong's party followed the path that ran through the heart of the academy from south to north.

As they walked, Yang Hong exchanged greetings with scholars coming and going along the way. The scholars, too, looked ordinary. Their breathing and gait made it plain they had never trained in martial arts—unless they were putting on an extraordinarily delicate performance.

"Nothing seems out of the ordinary, Gonggong."

Deok Heum stepped forward as spokesman for the Depot Guards, voicing what they all had noticed. This was the same Deok Heum who would have had his head struck from his shoulders that day, had Jin Myeong failed to save Empress Wang. From that day forward, he had become Jin Myeong's most ardent devotee.

"It's likely Songlim Academy merely provided the venue."

"Yes. Either way, we'll know once we meet the headmaster. If they're all just bookish scholars, this will be simple."

"It should be. But don't let your guard down. If the palace is a dragon's pool, the jianghu is a tiger's den."

"Of course, Gonggong. There—the Zhuge siblings. The scholar in the middle must be the headmaster."

As they drew near the ancestral shrine, Deok Heum lowered his voice.

At the heart of the academy, in the center of the ancestral shrine, the five Zhuge siblings and four or five scholars sat conversing.

"Your Honor!"

The scholars spotted Jin Myeong's party approaching, rose as one, and clasped their hands toward Yang Hong. Since Yang Hong and the others had not sent word of their visit, the assembled company looked mildly startled.

"Great Hero!"

The Zhuge siblings were no less surprised. Among them, Zhuge Yisheng's face looked as though he had bitten into something rotten.

A short while later.

After names had been exchanged, the scholars and the Zhuge siblings sat around a large round table at the center of the ancestral shrine, waiting for the food to be served.

"Master Dajing, I don't see several of your companions. Where have they gone?"

"They had other business, so they didn't come with us."

"A pity. In any case, thank you for accepting our invitation."

"Not at all. If anyone should be offering thanks, it is we."

"Haha! Master Jin Myeong, my siblings and I shall take good care of you today. Let us deepen the bonds of friendship, shall we?"

Having exchanged a cupped-fist salute with Gongsun Dajing, Zhuge Chaosheng turned to Jin Myeong.

He had been watching Jin Myeong closely for some time. Until yesterday he had taken Gongsun Dajing for the party's leader. Today, that no longer seemed to be the case.

Did I misread the man?

Gongsun Dajing and the rest of the party seemed, in subtle ways, to take their cues from Jin Myeong. Even the Qingliu County officials gave off the same impression. The thought had taken root because every member of Jin Myeong's party kept meeting his eyes at regular intervals.

"By all means. Though I must say, Master Zhuge, you seem to visit this place often. You appear to have a long-standing connection with the academy."

"Our house has always revered letters and knowledge, so we take a keen interest in Confucian circles and academies throughout the realm. I never expected that Master Changseong would have a connection with the County Magistrate, however."

A fierce reconnaissance passed between Jin Myeong and Zhuge Chaosheng. Jin Myeong had asked, in a roundabout way, about the relationship between the Zhuge Clan and Songlim Academy. Zhuge Chaosheng, in turn, had probed just as lightly at Jin Myeong's relationship with the government.

There was nothing in Zhuge Chaosheng's answer one could seize upon as a flaw. But neither did that answer make it possible to gauge the true nature of the bond between the Zhuge Clan and Songlim Academy.

"Ahem. That would be because this official hails from Shuntian Prefecture. Master Changseong and I have merely crossed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠paths now and then."

"Ah, I see. That explains it."

Zhuge Chaosheng nodded as if the explanation satisfied him.

Then it came.

"But what business does the government have at our academy?"

The voice that cut clean through the reconnaissance belonged to Yu Jin, headmaster of Songlim Academy. The clear, refined air of a middle-aged scholar was gone without a trace; his eyes had gone sharp.

The Zhuge siblings turned to him, puzzled. Until a moment ago, Yang Hong and Yu Jin had seemed as familiar and cordial as old acquaintances—and why wouldn't a county's prefect and a local notable be on friendly terms?

"Haha, Headmaster! Are you suggesting this official has come somewhere he shouldn't?"

Yang Hong answered with a forced cough, but Yu Jin's gaze was not on Yang Hong. It was on Gang Su and Deok Heum. More precisely, on their hands.

"How could I mean any such thing of Your Honor?"

"Then…?"

"What business brings you here, eunuch sirs?"

"Wh-what—?!"

Yang Hong, inwardly startled by Yu Jin's words to Gang Su and Deok Heum, was about to deny it when—

"Enough."

Jin Myeong's hand drifted across Yang Hong's line of sight, cutting him off. Unlike Yang Hong, Jin Myeong had already understood: Yu Jin had seen through them.

He wet his lips with tea and met Yu Jin's eyes. The look he wore was indifferent on the surface, and keener than it had ever been.

"How did you know."

"Speaking down to me right from the start… so you're a high official. A stature small for a man. Soft lines to the face. A voice that sounds as though it's being forced deeper than it is—thin underneath."

"Oh?"

"Narrow, quick footsteps. Long fingernails. And the way you receive a cup—graceful, almost like a woman's bearing. The hallmarks of a eunuch."

"Not bad. And here we thought we'd hidden it well."

"Forgive us, Gonggong!"

Convinced their clumsy acting had given them away, Gang Su and Deok Heum sprang to their feet, clasped their hands, and begged pardon. Jin Myeong only snorted a quiet laugh and shook his head.

"Sit down. No one fills his belly on the first bite—and what crime is it that you've lived as inner-court men for a dozen years?"

"Aye, Gonggong!"

"Gonggong? Haha! What fortune has a mere presented scholar like Yu Jin, to receive so exalted a eunuch sir today. Will you now tell us? Why you concealed your identities and came to this academy."

"You want this official to explain himself? How presumptuous. This official asks the questions. You lot answer them. That's all. What is your relationship with the Zhuge Clan?"

"Exactly as Military Master Zhuge Chaosheng already said. Why does Gonggong wish to know about this academy's relationship with the Zhuge Clan…?"

That was when it began.

A cold current ran down Yu Jin's spine. Outwardly his composure never cracked, but the fist clenched beneath the round table had begun to tremble.

The Blood Death Archery Corps. So they've finally got us by the throat.

Five days after the bloodbath at Mount Baohua, government men had arrived with their identities concealed. Coincidence?

That the eunuchs had hidden who they were—that much he could understand as a matter of custom. But the question just now was different. The manner of it made the suspicion unmistakable, and the first question laid atop that manner had been: what is your relationship with the Zhuge Clan?

Had they asked because they truly knew something? If they knew, how much? Or had they asked simply because the Zhuge Clan happened to be sitting here?

He could not yet read the intent. What was certain was that the eunuchs were entertaining some manner of suspicion.

"Perhaps I should ask the Zhuge Clan this time. Young Clan Head."

Jin Myeong turned to Zhuge Chaosheng.

That Jin Myeong's party were government men—eunuchs, no less—was something Zhuge Chaosheng and his siblings had never dreamed. Until a moment ago they had looked simply bewildered. Now they recovered their composure, and even Zhuge Yisheng, who had been slouching at a crooked angle, tensed and sat up straight.

"…We did not know you were government officials. It seems my siblings and I have been had. It is as I told you before. We stopped in Chuzhou and came to a renowned academy to share in scholarship. That is all."

"Is that so? You wouldn't have come all the way to Chuzhou for that. What business brought you to Chuzhou?"

"Mere sightseeing."

Zhuge Chaosheng's face had hardened, and his voice had gone stiff. Inwardly, he felt much as Yu Jin did. He thought of the clan head and the retainers who had gone the day before to clean up the Songlim Branch Academy.

How much do they know? How much did they come here knowing?

In truth, the Songlim Branch Academy had been Zhuge Clan property for a long time—an asset made over to a cadet branch. After signing the Suchengye's circular petition, they had provided the branch academy to the Blood Death Archery Corps. The great endeavor had failed, and so they had come in person, as the owners, to put the place in order.

The clan head was handling the cleanup at the branch academy. Zhuge Chaosheng had come to Chuzhou, so near Yingtianfu, to take the pulse of the imperial capital and to discuss future measures with Yu Jin.

"Sightseeing… Shall I have inquiries made into when, and how often, people of the Zhuge Clan have come and gone from Songlim Academy?"

"I beg your pardon? This humble one does not well understand what Gonggong is saying."

Yu Jin's method, and Zhuge Chaosheng's, was the same: play dumb. They had no intention of yielding until hard evidence was produced—and without clear grounds, no one could casually threaten one of the Five Great Clans of the jianghu on mere suspicion. In the present situation, denial and an unruffled face were the best available play.

"We'll look into that in due course. Headmaster."

"Please, speak."

In a single instant, those two syllables, delivered in a voice gone ice-cold, froze every body in the room.

Treason.

Not a soul among them failed to understand the weight of those two words, or the shockwave they carried.

Having spoken, Jin Myeong watched the faces of Yu Jin, the scholars, and the Zhuge siblings. Yu Jin's expression remained perfectly composed.

"Hahaha…! Treason. You speak words one scarcely dares put in one's mouth. This humble one cannot begin to guess what misunderstanding Gonggong has conceived."

"A misunderstanding."

"It is a misunderstanding. Powerless commoners like ourselves would lose sleep for days and tremble with fear at those two words alone. Gonggong cannot be ignorant of this—and so I find myself both wretched and wounded."

"Is that so? Then never mind."

"It would be best if we adjourned this gathering. Gonggong, please permit us to receive you properly another time."

"That would be fine as well. But this official has something to show you first. Gang Su. Deok Heum."

"Aye, Gonggong!"

"Bring them. Headmaster, we'll talk again after you've seen."

At Jin Myeong's command, Gang Su and Deok Heum launched themselves without a second word.

The Zhuge Clan and Yu Jin, witnessing the godlike swiftness of the Sunflower Manual with their own eyes, felt their pupils shudder.

Before long, Gang Su and Deok Heum returned with two men in tow.

They were the two whom Jong Deok's party—having left the county yamen and relocated to a teahouse across from Songlim Academy—had been holding: the Prefect of Chuzhou, who governed Qingliu, Quanjiao, and Lai'an Counties, and the judicial ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠officer who served as legal magistrate beneath him.

Yu Jin and the others stared in bewilderment, unable to fathom why the Prefect of Chuzhou and a judicial officer had been brought here. What, exactly, did Jin Myeong intend to show them? They could not predict it.

"Director! Y-you summoned this official!"

Called in the name of the Eastern Depot, Bong Yang, Prefect of Chuzhou, had dropped everything and flung himself flat. As prefect of Chuzhou, so near Yingtianfu, Bong Yang knew perfectly well for what purpose the Eastern Depot had been established.

"The Director is over here."

Taking a Director for a high official of the fifth rank, Bong Yang had assumed the man who looked to be in his thirties—Gongsun Dajing—was the one, and had prostrated himself in that direction. When Gongsun Dajing pointed to Jin Myeong, Bong Yang twisted his body around without rising. He was so grossly fat that sweat poured down his face even in the dead of winter.

"Ah! Forgive the discourtesy!"

"Do you know why this official summoned you?"

"In truth, this humble official does not… well… know for what reason you called him…"

"I called you because you fattened yourself on the lifeblood of the people."

"What? What?"

Bong Yang jerked his head up and looked at Yang Hong—who had squeezed his eyes shut and was trembling. In that instant, Bong Yang understood that whatever had gone wrong had gone catastrophically wrong. Excuses and denials would not take. Begging was the only path left alive.

"S-spare me! Gonggong!"

"Spare you? Yang Hong. Say it with your own mouth. What is Bong Yang's crime?"

At once Yang Hong, the county vice-magistrate, and the registrar lurched to their feet and flung themselves prostrate. All three had already tasted, at the county yamen, the terror of that face that smiled with the mouth and not with the eyes. To a man who had committed a crime, it was perfectly visible: the brutality hidden behind that face.

"Th-this humble one, to the P-Prefect…"

"Out with it!"

When Yang Hong stammered, Jin Myeong's bark cracked like a lash. The five men on the floor convulsed, shuddering.

"The silver you've taken from this Yang Hong alone since his appointment exceeds two hundred taels. That is enough for a starving, ragged family of commoners to eat their fill for a full ten years. Two hundred taels, gorged down in less than a year—and you have been prefect for three. How much have you stuffed yourself with in that time?"

"S-spare me! Gonggong!"

"Spare you?"

In the instant Bong Yang begged for his life a second time, something steeped in the darkness of night uncoiled from Jin Myeong's waist.

The imperial blade. Cheonyang Biyeon.

The ink-dark flood dragon, appearing outside its scabbard for the first time in a long while, coiled around Bong Yang's neck. Very slowly.

"S-s-spare me. Gonggong!"

The instant he felt the cold touch of Cheonyang Biyeon winding around his throat, Bong Yang wet himself. Tears and snot ran down his face and mixed with the sweat.

"S-s-spare—! Kh-hh!"

His limbs shook beyond any control. His mind had gone white. The only words left in it were spare me.

At that sudden thunderclap of a shout, Gongsun Dajing and the Depot Guards surged to their feet, dropped to one knee, and clasped their hands.

"By your command!"

"Officer Jeong Myeong-su."

"Aye, Gonggong!"

"What is the punishment for an official who privately embezzles the wealth of the state?"

"An official who privately covets the wealth of the state shall be beheaded."

"Did you hear that?"

Jin Myeong's gaze, cold beyond all measure, pinned Bong Yang where he lay.

"That plea for your life—go say it to the commoners who believed with iron faith that even a wretch like you was their parent. Who believed like fools, and simply worked—"

In the knife-cut pause between one breath and the next, the black flood dragon clamped tight around the prefect's throat.

And then.

"Worked until their backs broke! Who slaved like oxen and horses, only to starve and freeze to death—go meet them—"

The broken breath resumed, and in the same instant Cheonyang Biyeon cinched, sudden and crushing, around the neck it had coiled.

Yu Jin and the scholars, the Zhuge siblings, everyone outside the detached quarters who could guess from the sounds what was happening within—all of them stared, eyes flown wide in horror. Jin Myeong, gripping Cheonyang Biyeon, locked eyes with Yu Jin, whose own eyes were starting from his head.

And in the instant Yu Jin's pupils shook—

Ssuk—!

With a sound that crawled over the skin, Bong Yang's head rose into the air.