Around noon, Xu Buling drove the carriage through the Vermilion Bird Avenue, thick as it was with carts and horses. He wore the plain martial garb of a common guard; the fine sword at his waist had been swapped for a four-chi saber slung across his back and wrapped in black cloth; a bamboo hat sat on his head, and a black scarf hung around his neck, ready to be pulled up over his face.
Inside the carriage, Xiao Ting sat bolt upright, swaying his head from side to side in deep enjoyment:
"Buling, back in the day my grandfather held the reins for your grandfather, and now the wheel of fortune has turned—it's your turn to drive for me. What do you call that?"
"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—never look down on a poor young man."
Xu Buling tossed the reply off without a second thought.
Xiao Ting's eyes lit up, and he chewed it over for a moment. "Mm... not bad, not bad. To grasp a truth like that at your age—this boy is teachable..."
Xu Buling could not be bothered with this tool man. He thought for a moment, then turned his head and instructed:
"Don't let Madame Lu hear a word about my trip to White Horse Manor today."
Xiao Ting gave a light laugh. "A trifle. So long as this young master enjoys himself, I'll keep your secret for you..."
Xu Buling brought the carriage to a halt at the ward gate of Daye Ward and waved to Zhu Manzhi, who was glancing around in every direction.
As Xu Buling had arranged, Zhu Manzhi had changed into plain clothes: a warm white top flecked with peach petals, a red skirt with white flowers, her hair done in twin flat buns, and a pair of emerald earrings hanging from her earlobes. At sixteen she looked like the girl next door, fresh and green as a spring shoot—except that her chest was rather full for her age.
When she spotted the carriage, Zhu Manzhi's eyes lit up. Gathering her skirt, she came running, calling out with a grin from far off:
"Young Master Xu, is this outfit all right?"
"It'll do."
Xu Buling shifted over a little. Zhu Manzhi hopped up onto the carriage neat as you please and sat down on the outer edge, reaching out for the whip:
"This sort of thing is my job. It isn't fitting for a body worth a thousand in gold to drive..."
Xiao Ting heard the voice and lifted the carriage curtain to poke his head out. "How is it not fitting? Driving for me is a blessing earned..."
He turned his head, caught sight of Zhu Manzhi, and blinked. After a quick look up and down, his whole expression changed, and he put on the airs of a refined young gentleman:
"Forgive my presumption! This humble scholar is Xiao Ting. Might I ask the young lady's esteemed name?"
Zhu Manzhi had not expected anyone else in the carriage. She glanced back, her brows knitting slightly:
"Young Master Xu, who's this fellow?"
"The second son of Chancellor Xiao, nephew of the present Empress Dowager, direct blood of the Xiao clan of Huainan."
Zhu Manzhi's expression changed. The Xiao clan of Huainan was a top-tier great house; strictly speaking, the fool in front of her was of no lower station than Xu Buling.
Zhu Manzhi straightened her seat and her posture. "So it's Eldest Young Master Xiao. Seeing you is better than only hearing of you—truly, you stand like a jade tree in the wind, with an air of rare refinement."
Xiao Ting looked appropriately modest and flicked aside a strand of hair hanging over his brow. "You flatter me—that's all friends bragging. This young master is the most approachable of men... Oh, that's right, Xu Buling, Madame Lu said earlier that you and I are 'like cloud and mud.'"
"Naturally!" Zhu Manzhi nodded earnestly. "Young Master Xiao and Young Master Xu are of course like cloud and mud."
"Is that so? I was afraid Madame Lu was lying to me..."
Xu Buling's face took on a strange look. He reached up and pulled the curtain shut, rescuing Zhu Manzhi, who had no idea how to answer that...
White Horse Manor stood in the northern suburbs of Chang'an: a thousand mu of good farmland, all of it Li family property. The Li family of the Marquis of Loyalty and Valor had been made marquis for swearing to shield the sovereign with their lives, but their forebears had won no real battle honors. A hereditary house of generals with no battle honors to its name, however favored, was not acknowledged by the other military houses—and so they had never been entrusted with any weighty post.
Nor did the Li family try to contend with the several warlord houses of Great Yue. They stayed quietly in Chang'an and cultivated connections instead. These days the head of the house, Li Baoyi, held the office of General of the Cloud Banner, junior third rank—which in Great Yue, where warriors stood high, made him a ranking court minister.
The Li family's eldest son was currently garrisoned at the Southern Yue frontier; the second son, Li Tianlu, followed the custom of the great houses and took charge of the family's estates and of cultivating friendships with the scions of the great families on Kuishou Street—much the same role Xiao Ting filled.
White Horse Manor was called a farm, but after years of construction at the Li family's hands it was no different from a landscaped garden. It was a private estate, not open to visitors; only those bearing an invitation could pass the gate.
That afternoon.
Within White Horse Manor the buildings stood quiet and peaceful. Tenants with hoes over their shoulders moved back and forth along the field paths, and carriages and fine horses galloped past on the main road through the middle.
Outside the estate's memorial archway, guards with sabers patrolled back and forth, and there was no lack of experts keeping watch from the shadows. When a guest appeared, the steward waiting at the estate gate would step forward to greet him warmly.
And yet, for all its tranquility, the farm's atmosphere today was a little strange.
In the main hall of White Horse Manor, two men sat in the armchairs to either side. Zhu Chenglie of the Eagle Claw Sect stood behind a gray-haired old man whose face was seven or eight parts his own—though the old man's finger joints were thick and knobby, his muscles solider even than Zhu Chenglie's, and his pair of eagle eyes burned bright. This was none other than Zhu Manlong, famed as the "Dragon-Catching Hand."
Across from him sat Zhang Chao, academy head of the Tongbei Sect on Hutai Street. Zhang Chao practiced Tongbei Fist, famed in the jianghu for "two arms linked through, cold, springing, crisp and fast," and traced his lineage to the Qi family of Youzhou. Unlike Zhu Manlong, who had come to Chang'an alone, Zhang Chao had been sent by the Qi family of Youzhou expressly to teach the fist—so he was proper martial-arts nobility by birth.
The hall was carved and painted, furnished in luxury. In the seat of honor at the head sat a young man, lounging at his ease, his eyes full of arrogance, a wine cup in his hand that he gently swirled as he listened to the two of them talk:
"Sect Master Zhu, you're certain that the man yesterday used 'Golden Dragon Closes Its Jaws' from the Tongbei Fist?"
It was of course Zhang Chao speaking. The jianghu had the jianghu's rules; great houses and sects alike, the transmission of martial arts was no small matter—father to son, master to disciple. A master of high repute and standing, if he judged a disciple or a son unsound in character, would sooner let the technique rot in his belly than teach it out to harm others.
And every school kept a few ultimate techniques that could not be learned merely by watching another man perform them once. Without a master's word and hand to guide you, you could spend a lifetime at flower fists and embroidered kicks.
"Golden Dragon Closes Its Jaws" was one of them.
Zhu Manlong held his teacup and tilted his head in a gesture.
Zhu Chenglie, his face still sickly pale, walked to the center of the hall and opened his martial garb. His knotted muscles showed in the cold air, and bruises and welts were visible on his back, his chest, and his arms.
Zhang Chao set down his teacup, rose, and stepped close to examine the injuries, his brows drawing tight:
"It's Golden Dragon Closes Its Jaws, all right. Without ten years of hard practice, a man can't bring out that kind of finish."
Zhu Chenglie closed his clothing and looked toward the head seat. "That man was chasing down a gambling addict and asking about White Horse Manor. Young Master Li, what do you make of it..."
Li Tianlu, still swirling his cup, gave a soft huff:
"Probably some jianghu man the gambler cheated out of his silver... You two say his martial arts are high. To be safe, both of you stay here a few days. If he dares to come in, he needn't come out again."
Zhu Manlong and Zhang Chao nodded slightly. "Rest easy, Young Master Li."
Zhu Chenglie hesitated a moment. "The man's learning is a mixed bag; his background is likely not simple. If he's a man from the government..."
"In Chang'an, anyone who isn't from behind the three octagonal archways of Kuishou Street has to give this young master a measure of respect."
Li Tianlu's eyes were arrogant; he gave a soft huff and rose, walking out of the hall. "You two strike without worry. No looking over your shoulders—if anything goes wrong, this young master will cover for you."
"We see Young Master Li out!"
Zhu Manlong and Zhang Chao both nodded...