Xie Zheng looked toward Fan Changyu. “You are acquainted with that constable surnamed Wang. Go find him at once and tell him to bring the yamen runners to guard the city gate. The rioters must not be allowed to enter the city.”

Fan Changyu did not understand. “If the rioters enter the city, they should be looking for trouble with the county magistrate and his yamen, shouldn’t they? Why stop them on the magistrate’s behalf?”

The expression on Xie Zheng’s face was an indescribable kind of coldness. “They’ve already thrown their lives away to rebel—do you still think all they want is justice? What they seek now is power and wealth! Every household in this city is richer than those peasants, enough to make them hate to the bone. One step further, and they’ll become rebels who burn, kill, loot, and commit every evil under the sun. If you don’t want to see this county town plundered to nothing, then do as I say.”

Hearing this, Fan Changyu’s heart sank for a moment at the complexity of human nature. She pressed her lips together and said, “Constable Wang has already been dismissed by the magistrate. His words hold no weight in the yamen now.”

Xie Zheng’s brows knitted, yet he still said, “Just go deliver the message. Tell him the magistrate has been overpowered, and have him lead the yamen runners to fortify the city gate. When they encounter the rioters, prioritize appeasement—promise that the government will return all the grain it collected, and will not pursue their crimes.”

“But what if the government refuses to return the grain?”

“Then first calm the rioters. I’ll think of the rest.”

His gaze was steady and quiet—somehow, it inspired trust.

Fan Changyu thought for a moment, still hesitant. “Didn’t you say they’ve already rebelled, and what they seek is glory and riches? Will such words really pacify them?”

Xie Zheng gave her a look. “The rioters fight to the death because they have no way out. Promise them no punishment, return their grain, and those who simply wish to farm as before will start to waver. The ambitious few will continue to incite, but those who were forced into this will begin to hesitate.”

Fan Changyu finally understood—he wanted the mob to fall into internal discord.

For an instant, she found the man before her unfamiliar. It seemed she had never truly known him.

Sensing her gaze, Xie Zheng asked, “What’s wrong?”

Fan Changyu shook her head, then asked, “How do we get out?”

The soldiers were still guarding the back alley behind the Yixiang Tower. If they exited through the mouth of the alley, they would surely be seen by the guards outside. If they knocked the soldiers unconscious and fled, the bodies would soon be discovered, exposing their whereabouts all the same.

But the other end of the alley was sealed by a high wall. It was narrow—meant only to drain the rainwater dripping from the eaves between two houses. Only one person could pass through at a time. Damp and sunless all year round, its walls were covered in slippery green moss; the slightest carelessness would send one sliding.

Xie Zheng glanced at the high wall that blocked the end of the alley, and said to Fan Changyu, “Step on my shoulder and climb up.”

Fan Changyu measured their heights, then nodded. “All right. Once I’m up, I’ll find a ladder for you.”

When Xie Zheng crouched at the base of the wall, she braced one hand against it and placed a foot on his broad shoulder.

Their combined height was barely enough for Fan Changyu to reach the top of the wall. She pushed up with both arms and hoisted herself over. As she lifted her gaze and swept it across the courtyard, she saw—by an open window—a man at his desk writing. Suddenly, he raised his sharp eyes toward her.

In the blink of an eye, Fan Changyu snatched a broken roof tile from the wall and hurled it straight at his acupuncture point.

The man’s face showed a look of shock. Before he could utter a word, his entire body collapsed forward onto the desk.

Only after throwing the tile did Fan Changyu realize belatedly that the man looked somewhat familiar—yet, for the moment, she could not recall where she had seen him before.

Hearing the commotion inside, Xie Zheng asked, “There’s someone on the other side of the wall?”

Fan Changyu responded with a soft “Mm,” then said, “I’ve already knocked him out. There’s a bamboo ladder in the courtyard—wait here, I’ll bring it over.”

As she spoke, she leapt down from the top of the wall, her movements as light and agile as a cat.

The bamboo ladder was neither long nor short—just enough to reach the height of the courtyard wall. Fan Changyu climbed back up along the ladder, then passed it over to the other side of the wall so that Xie Zheng could also climb over smoothly.

Once inside, he glanced at the man Fan Changyu had knocked unconscious. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes. “It’s the owner of the bookshop,” he said.

Why was Zhao’s residence situated right next door to the Yixiang Tower?

A trace of doubt arose in his heart, prompting him to glance once more at the unfinished letter on the desk. Because Zhao Xun had collapsed and dragged the brush heavily across the page, many of the words had been blotted out with ink. Even so, the general content could still be made out.

Xie Zheng’s gaze suddenly turned cold. As he left, whether by accident or intent, his sleeve brushed against the inkstone, tipping it over. Thick black ink splattered across the entire desk, staining the unfinished letter—along with Zhao Xun’s sleeve and half his face.

When Fan Changyu heard that the man was the bookshop owner, she already felt a twinge of guilt. Seeing Xie Zheng knock over the inkstone made her heart leap wildly. She stammered, “I… I hit your employer, and now you’ve spilled his inkstone—won’t he hold a grudge against you?”

She remembered that Xie Zheng had written essays for the bookshop before—wasn’t there still a deposit from that forty taels?

Xie Zheng paused for a moment, surprised that this was what she was worried about. The chill in his expression softened slightly. “It’s fine. He may not even remember you, nor know that I was here.”

Fan Changyu thought it over and realized he was right. She herself had nearly failed to recognize the man. He was a wealthy merchant—he must see countless people each day, surely he wouldn’t remember her. She let out a long breath of relief.

The Zhao residence was a two-courtyard compound, yet not a single servant could be seen within. It was easy enough for Fan Changyu and Xie Zheng to slip out through the side gate.

Fan Changyu thought to herself that all this trouble had arisen because both the front and back of the Yixiang Tower were under guard by the soldiers. She couldn’t help saying, “Shopkeeper Yu and the servants of the pavilion were all thrown into prison by that dog official. Why are they still keeping men stationed at the Pavilion? Could it be they’re after Yu Bao’er?”

Xie Zheng’s expression was dark and unreadable. He only said, “It’s not impossible.”

Fan Changyu’s face grew indignant at once. “Those dog officials are truly vicious!”

Would they even spare a child, just to make an example of others?

Xie Zheng didn’t reply. “I’ve temporarily placed the child with the old man who drives your cart,” he said.

Fan Changyu, who had rented that old man’s ox cart for a month to deliver goods, nodded. He was at least someone they could trust.

But having that old man take along a wealthy young master would still easily arouse suspicion. Fan Changyu said, “When I go to Constable Wang’s house, I’ll bring Bao’er with me.”

Xie Zheng nodded. When the two parted ways, he looked at Fan Changyu as if to say something, but in the end said nothing.

Seeing him hesitate, Fan Changyu asked in puzzlement, “What is it?”

The sky was overcast, which made Xie Zheng’s gaze look darker than usual. He said, “If the rioters get into the city, just make sure you keep yourself safe.”

After a pause he added, “Trust no one.”

Fan Changyu’s heart skipped. She looked up at him: “Are you leaving?”

It felt very wrong that he suddenly spoke to her like that.

Xie Zheng choked on the words, his expression unpleasant. “Although I’m not someone entirely worthy of trust, for now you can still trust me.”

After he left, Fan Changyu stood frozen for a moment, then went to the old cart-driver to fetch Yu Bao’er and took him to Constable Wang’s house.

When Constable Wang heard about the rioters he was also greatly alarmed. After pacing back and forth in the room several times, he said to his wife, “Bring me my constable’s uniform.”

While Madam Wang went to the inner room to fetch the clothes, Constable Wang looked at Fan Changyu and said, “Your husband—one with such insight and sharpness—he’s not ordinary…”

Fan Changyu said, “His family used to run an escort agency; perhaps he has seen more than others.”

Constable Wang muttered, “No wonder,” then donned his constable uniform and went out to gather the men he had once commanded.

Madam Wang saw him off at the gate, her face filled with worry.

Fan Changyu did not know Xie Zheng’s next plan. Sending a dismissed constable out to do this was risky.

But once the rioters broke into the city and, with no way out, their ambition and greed would surge like a carnivorous beast that could not be stopped. That beast had to be strangled before it tasted blood.

She thought for a moment and asked Madam Wang, “You mentioned earlier that you have maps of the county yamen and the county magistrate’s residence?”

Madam Wang hesitated, then nodded and asked, “There are, but what do you intend to do, girl?”

Fan Changyu said, “From what my husband said, the grain requisition has turned into such a mess—most likely the county magistrate has been usurped. Why don’t we rescue the county magistrate? Not to mention other things, first we should restore Uncle Wang’s position as constable; then it will be easier for him to act.”

No matter who secretly holds power now, in the eyes of commoners and yamen runners the county magistrate is the highest official in Qingping County.

Madam Wang didn’t know whether the girl was born with such boldness or what; she was still a little terrified, yet this girl was thinking of even bolder plans. Thinking of her husband going to stop the rioters, she steadied herself and said, “This is rather risky. I’ll go with you.”

Fan Changyu considered and said, “There’s a less risky way, but we’ll still need your help, auntie.”

Madam Wang’s expression shifted.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Yixiang Tower.

A carriage drove into the back alley of the Yixiang Tower and stopped not far from the alley entrance, yet no one alighted from the carriage. The guards at the back door of the Pavilion casually eyed the carriage.

Two of them exchanged a glance and were about to go check it out, when a black shadow suddenly sprang out from the other side of the alley, swung a club, and struck the back of the heads of the remaining two guards. The two guards were knocked unconscious on the spot.

Fan Changyu changed into a boy’s clothes at Constable Wang’s house, smeared her face with soot from the cooking pot until her features were unrecognizable, then kicked open the seal on the back door of the Yixiang Tower and dashed inside.

The two guards who had been about to check the carriage shouted at once: “An accomplice to the murderer has broken into the Pavilion to destroy the evidence!”

They followed in to seize her—but Fan Changyu had been waiting just behind the door.

As soon as they entered, she hurled her club and knocked one of them out cold. The soldier behind him drew his blade to slash at her, but Fan Changyu twisted aside and kicked him straight into the slop vat in the backyard. The vat was deep; the man folded in half inside it and didn’t surface for quite some time.

After spending a brief moment inside, Fan Changyu came back out, holding something wrapped in a cloak against her chest, and hurried out of the courtyard.

The soldier in the slop vat screamed hysterically, “The thief’s escaped! The thief’s escaped!”

The commotion had already alarmed the guards at the Pavilion’s front entrance. A group of men dressed in constables’ uniforms—but clearly not constables—split into two teams and rushed from both ends of the alley. All they saw was a small figure of a youth clutching something that looked like a child in his arms, hurrying onto the carriage parked at the mouth of the alley.

Before the soldiers could catch up, the carriage was already racing away.

Snowflakes drifted thick in the air. The driver wore coarse hemp clothes and a bamboo hat that concealed the face, but the sharp, practiced flick of the whip showed at a glance that this was someone trained.

Some soldiers who had come from the front to block the way stepped forward to intercept—but the driver snapped out another whip, more than ten feet long. A single lash split flesh open; with one sweeping motion to left and right, the soldiers lay on the roadside groaning in pain.

The officer in charge shouted, “It must be an accomplice from the Pavilion taking that brat away! Call for reinforcements, quickly!”

A signal arrow shot up into the gray sky, and soon the county office dispatched another squad of soldiers to pursue.

The people on the carriage were Fan Changyu and Madam Wang.

Madam Wang knew every street and alley in the county like the back of her hand; after turning a few corners, she had already shaken off the pursuers. Fan Changyu jumped down from the carriage and said, “Auntie, please keep leading them around for two quarters of an hour. After that, don’t worry about them—just get yourself to safety.”

Madam Wang lifted her bamboo hat slightly. “Two quarters of an hour, will that be enough for you?”

Fan Changyu said, “My husband should be at the yamen. I’ll head to the magistrate’s residence. With all the soldiers out chasing the shopkeeper Yu’s son, we should be able to find the magistrate somehow.”

There was, of course, no Yu Bao’er in the carriage; what Fan Changyu had wrapped in her cloak when leaving the Pavilion was merely a small quilt.