The north wind swept up fine snow; the cold pierced to the bone. Passersby on the main street hunched their necks and tucked their hands into their sleeves. Fan Changyu carried a black-iron bladed bone-cleaving knife by the handle; veins stood out on the back of her hand as she strode quickly through the wind and snow.

A crowd had already gathered at the entrance to the western city alley to gawk; shouts, smashing, admonishments, and children’s cries mingled together.

Someone with sharp eyes caught sight of Fan Changyu and said, “Changyu’s back!”

When they saw the bone-cleaver in her hand they involuntarily drew a cold breath.

“That Changyu girl is still going to use a knife on her uncle, is she?”

“That’s because Fan Da isn’t human. Fan Er and his wife’ s corpses haven’t even turned cold and he’s already thinking of taking the orphaned girls’ house and land to pay his gambling debts. Aren’t you afraid they’ll come haunt him in his dreams—Fan Er and his wife…”

“The people at the gambling house aren’t good sorts. A girl like Changyu with a knife might not be able to drive them off…”

The front of the Fan house was already a mess: broken jars and bottles and overturned tables and stools stretched from the doorway into the interior. Several burly men were still inside smashing things and rummaging, the bedding on the bed had been thrown to the floor.

Changning was held in Aunt Zhao’s arms, crying hysterically; Aunt Zhao’s eyes were red from crying as well—she could only shout in vain, “Don’t smash! Don’t smash!”

But no one listened to her.

Fan Da bowed and cajoled beside a man who looked like a manager from the gambling house, clutching one of his hands and wearing a smiling face: “Master Jin, as long as we get the deed, I’ll go to the magistrate’s office and transfer it over. The house will be mine. I have the money to pay off the gambling debt, I’ll pay it.”

The man called Master Jin did not give Fan Da so much as a proper glance; he snorted, “If we can’t find the deed today, I’ll cut off this hand of yours first and bring it back as proof.”

Fan Da covered his hand tighter. “We can find it, we can find it…”

A shout rang from the doorway, a roar that made eardrums ache: “All of you, stop!”

The voice pierced through and successfully drew everyone’s attention in the house toward the doorway.

The woman swept in wrapped with wind and snow; her gaze was as cold as the sharp edge of the bone-cleaver in her hand. Even the lintel, through which a sliver of daylight showed, seemed to have shrunk lower.

The moment Changning saw Fan Changyu she sucked in her lips and cried out, “Big sister…”

Fan Da’s eyes dodged when he saw Fan Changyu; he hunched his shoulders and stood by the gambling-house manager without daring to make a sound.

The gambling-house manager, Master Jin, glanced at the butcher’s knife in Fan Changyu’s hand and laughed casually, unconcerned: “Oh, it’s the Fan family’s eldest miss.”

Fan Changyu’s cold eyes swept across the ruined room; her face tightened like stretched leather. “Take your men and get out!”

Master Jin raised an eyelid, feeling that a lone orphan girl was too presumptuous. “Gambling houses operate according to the rules. Fan Da says this house is his. The gambling house only holds the deed as collateral for his debt; your family matters are none of the gambling house’s concern.”

Fan Changyu’s eyes stabbed like a dagger toward Fan Da. “This house is yours?”

Fan Da, ashamed and unable to meet Fan Changyu’s gaze, played the family card. “Great-niece, your uncle was forced, he had no choice. Your uncle owed money to the gambling house. If we don’t pay today, your uncle will lose his hand. Old Er and his wife are gone; you and Ning-niang have no brothers. When you marry, if you don’t want to be bullied by your husband’s family you need brothers on your side. Help your uncle—bring out the deed and help pay the debt for your uncle. Your uncle will treat you and Ning-niang like his own daughters after, your cousin—your real elder brother—then will be someone you can rely on when you marry…”

Fan Changyu would not listen to his lies; she sneered, “If you want to use a house to pay a gambling debt, use your own house. Using my family’s house to pay a debt—what kind of damned logic is that! Your gambling son is just like you; if he isn’t being chased to have his hands chopped off in the future, that’ll be fine. You expect me to rely on him?”

Fan Da was shamed speechless. Pointing at Fan Changyu he spat, “You have such venomous heart? Cursing your cousin like that? Your cousin still needs to find a match; if the house is used as collateral, what will your cousin use to marry a wife? You and Ning-niang are just girls who will marry away—what use is this house to you then?”

Fan Changyu, furious, burst into laughter: “What my father and mother left to me and Ning-niang is for me to dispose of as I please.”

Seeing that Fan Changyu was resolute and would not hand over the deed, Fan Da stopped using familial appeals and showed his true ruthlessness: “Fan Er didn’t leave a son. After he died, his property and fields, even if the matter goes to the magistrate, will still come to me. You’re just a girl who’s going to be married off—what are you fighting for? Fight all the way to your future husband’s home?”

“Maybe you killed your parents and were returned from the Song family’s betrothal, bearing the name of an unlucky star so you can’t get married, so you want to leave the inheritance to yourself as a dowry? Your sickly little sister won’t live many years either, right? Who sane would dare marry this unlucky star?”

No one saw how Fan Changyu moved.

When they focused again, the butcher’s knife in her hand had already flown out — the blade grazed past Fan Da’s ear and struck deep into the wall behind him. A few severed strands of hair drifted down to the ground.

Fan Da’s face turned ashen; his legs trembled like a sieve. His mouth gaped open, but no sound came out.

The gambling-house steward, Master Jin, and the thugs he had brought had only been watching the spectacle. Yet when they saw this scene, they seemed to realize the woman before them was a ruthless one, and their expressions grew more guarded.

Fan Changyu lifted her gaze and fixed it coldly on Fan Da.

“My father and mother’s estate was left to pay for Changning’s medicine and treatment. You had better take your gambling-house men and get out right now. Otherwise— the gambling house only wants one of your hands; I’ll cut down your whole family before I go to see my parents below!”

“You—!” Fan Da shuddered violently. Her eyes made his heart seize; he dared not meet them again. Stammering, he said, “Then… then let’s go to the yamen and reason it out! We’ll see whether the magistrate rules that this property belongs to you or to me!”

He then bent low again, forcing a smile as he spoke to the gambling-house steward who sat arrogantly in a chair.

“Master Jin, this… could you perhaps grant me two more days?”

The steward sneered.

“Hui Xian Gambling House has no precedent for leniency. If word spreads, others will think our house is weak— that we can’t collect our debts!”

He cast Fan Da a cold glance.

“Or do you mean to use your right hand as payment?”

Cold sweat streamed instantly down Fan Da’s face. “No, no! But this girl…”

He looked at Fan Changyu again, still too frightened to act.

The steward only gave a short, cold laugh. “If you’re certain it’s your property, then the brothers you brought can search for it directly.”

Compared with a single hand, he naturally preferred a house that could be sold for silver. Turning to his men, Master Jin barked, “What are you standing around for? Keep searching for the deed!”

The group of thugs resumed overturning chests and smashing furniture.

Fan Changyu clenched her jaw, her fists cracking from the force of her grip.

Master Jin chuckled. “Miss Fan, don’t blame me. These are the rules of the gambling house.”

Aunt Zhao watched the scene, her heart burning with anxiety— then suddenly seemed to think of something and hurried out.

She did not go elsewhere, but pushed through the onlookers crowding the doorway and knocked on the Song family’s gate.

“Song Yan! Fan Da brought the gambling-house men to Changyu’s home to seize the deed! You’re a man who’s studied the Classics— Fan Er and his wife treated you well back then! You should at least come out and speak for Changyu! You’re a licentiate; surely the gambling house would show you some respect!”

The whole alley knew the Fan family was in trouble, but the Song house alone kept its gate tightly shut. No matter how Aunt Zhao pounded—until the noise shook the door—no sound came from within.

At last, Aunt Zhao broke down crying and cursed through her tears: “Song Yan, did you stuff all your learning into a dog’s belly? When your father died, you couldn’t even afford a coffin— have you forgotten who bought it and buried him? Aren’t you afraid your father’s bones are being crushed under that coffin now!”

Her shrill, grief-stricken voice rang through the whole alley.

Just beyond that door, Madam Song trembled with rage.

“That vile-mouthed shrew! You already broke off the engagement with that Fan girl— her family’s wretched mess has nothing to do with you! I must go out and scold that woman myself!”

The man bent over his books finally spoke: “Mother.”

Madam Song stopped.

“Enough, enough! That cursed woman just wants to drag us down with them. If I go out, I’ll fall right into her trap! And you, Yan-ge’er, don’t go either. You’re a man striving for the examinations and official rank— don’t get entangled with that family again.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

In the attic of the Zhao house, separated from the Fan home by only one wall, Xie Zheng had naturally heard the commotion next door and Aunt Zhao’s crying and cursing.

The other side seemed to have many people; that woman was alone, and the old couple could hardly help.

Outside, the gray sky cleared toward noon; the frost condensed on the eaves caught the sunlight and reflected a pale, chill gold.

Xie Zheng’s face, under that sunlight, held no warmth either. His lips pressed down, as if in a thoroughly foul mood.

Those scoundrels really were noisy enough to make one’s ears ache.

He braced his pale, scabbed hand against the pair of crutches leaning by his bedside and laboriously got down. The crutches had been made and delivered to him by Carpenter Zhao just today.

His wounds had not yet healed; the moment he put weight on his feet, the injuries that had been wrapped in gauze began to seep blood again. But he seemed not to notice—each step he took with the crutches was steady and firm.

If he didn’t deal with the troublemakers next door today, he feared he wouldn’t be able to rest at noon.

At that same time, the Fan house had already been turned completely upside down by the gambling-house thugs. They even tapped every floor tile with sticks one by one.

Changning cowered behind Fan Changyu, sobbing hoarsely. Fan Changyu shielded her sister with one arm, head slightly lowered, so that her expression at that moment was hidden.

One thug was rifling through the table that held the memorial tablets of Fan Changyu’s parents. He knocked the tablets to the floor, and just as he was about to stamp on them to see if something was hidden beneath, his collar was seized from behind. A great force lifted him and flung him hard across the room. He crashed to the threshold, his head striking the door sill—still dazed, unable to comprehend what had happened.

Everyone in the room froze.

Fan Changyu now stood where the thug had been, silently gazing at the memorial tablets of her parents scattered on the floor. A cold gust swept through the hall, lifting the loose strands at her temples. Drops of blood fell from her palm—she had pierced her own fingertip earlier while restraining herself.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” she said quietly. “Will you leave or not?”

Her voice was unexpectedly calm, yet it chilled the blood of all who heard it.

The gambling-house men looked at one another uneasily. Fan Da, however, had already shuffled backward toward the doorway, his legs trembling. The memory of that earlier thrown knife still haunted him.

Master Jin had collected debts for many years, but never before had anyone humiliated him so. With so many people watching from outside, if he didn’t collect the debt today, the shame would fall on the entire gambling house.

He rose and kicked the thug nearest him. “Dead already? Keep smashing! I’ve been collecting debts in Lin’an Town for years—since when was I afraid of some little girl?”

The thugs tried to reassure themselves with his words, but when they glanced at their companion still groaning on the floor by the doorway, dread stirred within them again.

That girl’s strength was monstrous—unnatural.

They exchanged looks and surged forward together. Fan Changyu didn’t even lift her head; her foot hooked up the wooden club the fallen thug had dropped. Gripping it in one hand, she swung it in a wide arc. The first few men struck in the stomach were flung backward, doubling over, spitting up their meals.

Fan Changyu gave them no time to recover. The long stick in her hands whirled like a storm—sweeping, thrusting, splitting, chopping… To say she used staff techniques would be wrong; it was as if she were wielding a long-handled blade with no edge attached.

The gambling-house thugs were beaten crying for their fathers and mothers, tossed out of the Fan family gate like torn sacks. The gasps of the onlookers rose one after another.

Fan Da, seeing Fan Changyu execute that set of blade techniques, turned deathly pale and hunched like a quail in a corner.

Master Jin, sensing the situation turning against him, tried to flee—yet before he could step through the gate, a black-iron bone-cleaver flew from behind and embedded itself firmly into the door plank before him, missing his nose by a hair.

Master Jin swallowed hard. “Miss Fan, a misunderstanding—all a misunderstanding…”

A commotion rippled through the crowd outside. “The constables are here! Make way, make way!”

The gang of habitual lawbreakers actually exhaled in relief when they heard that.

Carpenter Zhao arrived drenched in sweat, leading the constables. “In broad daylight, bullying an orphaned girl—have you no—”

But when he saw the gambling-house thugs groaning on the ground outside the Fan house, and Master Jin stopped short by a cleaver planted in the doorway, the words “sense of law” stuck in his throat.

Just then, Xie Zheng, descending the stairs of the Zhao house with his crutches, took in the scene and looked slightly startled.

He had already sensed that the girl’s breathing was steady and controlled, no less than that of a trained fighter—he hadn’t expected it to be true.

The crowd was too busy watching the spectacle to notice Xie Zheng. Seeing that the trouble was over, he glanced once at his own clothes—already stained red where the reopened wound had bled through the bandages—then turned back toward his room, face expressionless, though a sheen of cold sweat had broken out across his brow.

A blue-robed scholar from the Song family, who had just opened his gate and stepped out, glanced toward the Fan house when he saw the constables outside, his expression odd; then he retreated and closed the gate again.

Inside, Fan Changyu stifled the murderous anger she had been forced to unleash. She knelt without a word and picked up her parents’ memorial tablets from the ground.

Her blood on her hand had stained the tablets; she wiped them with her sleeve.

That set of long-handled blade techniques had all been taught to her by her father, but her father had never permitted her to use them in public.

He had said they were to be used only as a last resort, when life was truly in danger—otherwise they might invite trouble.

She had broken that rule today, but not because her life was in danger; it was for her parents’ tablets.

Fan Changyu held the tablets to her chest and closed her bloodshot eyes.

Father, please do not blame Changyu.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

With the constables’ intervention, the following handling became much more peaceful.

Fan Changyu had injured many of the gambling-house men, but since they had trespassed and destroyed items in her home first, the constables reprimanded those who had made a disturbance and only ordered Master Jin to compensate Fan Changyu’s household for the damage; they did not require Fan Changyu to pay the gambling-house men’s medical expenses.

Fan Da shouted loudly that, according to law, the Fan family house should belong to him; the constable gave Fan Da a sidelong glance and said, “Separate matters from matters. If you want the house, write a complaint and submit it to the yamen; let the magistrate decide.”

Fan Da immediately dared not make a sound.

The gambling-house crew supported one another like a string of gourds and left the Fan house; Fan Da fled in disgrace. The onlookers gradually dispersed.

Fan Changyu turned to the head constable and said, “Thank you, Uncle Wang.”

Head Constable Wang had been an old acquaintance of her father in life; Carpenter Zhao had run off a long way to fetch him, hoping he would give Fan Changyu some help.

Head Constable Wang said, “Today they were clearly in the wrong. I enforced the law impartially, so it is not favoritism. But if Fan Da truly goes to the county yamen and files a complaint, I’m afraid your house may not be kept.”

The reason Fan Da had not yet filed a complaint at the yamen was partly because lawsuits are troublesome, and partly because hiring a litigation specialist costs a good deal of silver.

But now that he knew he could not force Fan Changyu, he might well turn and actually file suit at the yamen to use the house deed to settle his gambling debts.

Fan Changyu’s face was deeply weary and gray. “I’ve thought of every possible way. I even asked litigation specialists; they all said I cannot transfer the house and land my parents left.”

Litigation specialists were people who wrote petitions and handled lawsuits for others; they were thoroughly familiar with the laws of the dynasty.

Head Constable Wang, having handled cases for many years and seen much, pondered for a moment and said, “Perhaps there is another way.”