"YOUR HIGHNESS, run!"
"What?" The Prince of Joy was still confused, so Dai Shengyan wrenched him forward, making him stumble.
The assassin approached slowly. They scraped their blade against the brick wall with an earsplitting screech, sparks flying.
"Y-you… Who are you?" The Prince of Joy pointed at the assassin, his voice trembling.
The assassin's only reply was a low, eerie chuckle. The sound was soft, little more than a murmur. Yet, as it spilled forth, it seemed to reverberate until the air itself laughed alongside the figure. The prince and Dai Shengyan both felt their scalps prickle with terror.
The Prince of Joy scrambled to his feet and ran with Dai Shengyan close behind. They turned several corners, and the assassin's laughter gradually faded. Only when they no longer heard it did they dare stop, leaning against a wall to catch their breath.
"Was that a person or a ghost?" the Prince of Joy panted.
Dai Shengyan cautiously peeked around the corner to see whether the assassin was following them. The dim light revealed nothing in the darkness ahead; the assassin might emerge from that darkness at any moment.
Pulling back, Dai Shengyan said, "There's no such thing as ghosts. It must be someone's trick. We didn't realize it while we were fleeing, but we've run quite far from the residence now. Let's hurry to the county office and get help."
"Good idea." The Prince of Joy struggled to stand. "But I'm exhausted. Let me rest for a moment."
The prince suddenly froze, his head lowered.
Noticing his stillness, Dai Shengyan asked, "What's wrong?"
The Prince of Joy trembled as he pointed to the ground, voice quivering. "Look… Does that shadow have three heads?"
Dai Shengyan peered downward. On the ground was a massive shadow—the prince's—and a thinner one—his own. But between them was an additional smaller shadow, as if a third head had sprouted from their shoulders.
They slowly raised their eyes, coming face-to-face with an expressionless visage. It stared at them, then slowly grinned, revealing gleaming white teeth.
"Ahhhhh!"
The prince and Dai Shengyan screamed in terror, scrambling away from the tree.
The assassin flipped down from the wall, landing gracefully on the ground. They raised their head, and their lips curved into a malicious smile.
"I am the Garuda of Qiye Garden, come to send Your Highness to paradise."
The voice was low and genderless, like the whisper of a ghost from an ancient wasteland—hoarse yet clear, as if simultaneously echoing from afar and speaking right by their ears.
Their surroundings were pitch-black but for a few lanterns hung on the walls. Resembling a demon lurking in the darkness, the assassin called the Garuda stepped closer.
One step. Two steps. Three steps…
"Stay back! Stay back!" Dai Shengyan and the Prince of Joy stumbled backward in unison.
The Garuda reached the edge of the darkness, their body now bathed in moonlight below the shoulders. Clad in black robes, they stood as straight as a crane. As the darkness receded to the contours of the assassin's face, a shimmering blade flashed like water. The black shadow darted owlishly between Dai Shengyan and the prince. In that moment, they seemed to hear rippling water. Then something warm and sticky splashed their faces.
Numb, Dai Shengyan turned around to glimpse the cold, long saber first. On its blade were inscribed the characters Hengbo in seal script. His eyes traveled up the blade, landing on the Prince of Joy's horrified face—and the crimson gash across his neck.
Blood splattered, staining Dai Shengyan's cheek.
Before him, the Garuda maintained a malicious smile. Bright-red blood stained their lips, bringing with it cruel beauty.
As Dai Shengyan stumbled backward in terror, he finally got a clear look at the Garuda. She was a woman of striking beauty despite the sharply arched eyebrows that gave her a fierce, murderous air. Her beauty was wild, like a leopard's, sending a shiver down his spine.
In that instant, Dai Shengyan made a decision. Holding his breath, he lunged forward, drew a sword from the prince's side, and thrust it at the Garuda.
The sword was adorned with jewels, its blade polished and reflective. It suited the Prince of Joy's style perfectly, but as soon as Dai Shengyan drew it, he knew that he was doomed—the blade's edge was unsharpened. Dai Shengyan had studied swordplay in his youth, never neglecting it despite his scholarly pursuits, yet even a grandmaster of the sword would be helpless now.
But so what?
Pouring all his strength into the thrust, he charged forward like a moth to a flame.
Even if there was only a sliver of hope, he had to fight!
A blink later, the blade shone like frost, shedding its jeweled splendor as it sliced through the darkness. The Garuda raised an eyebrow and met the sword with her saber. With a flick of her wrist, her water-like blade slid along Dai Shengyan's to just below his hand, leaving a long, shallow cut.
Dai Shengyan's wrist throbbed in pain, and his sword clattered to the ground.
The Garuda sneered. "Does every scholar have a death wish?"
Dai Shengyan closed his eyes and sighed. "I am no match for you. Do as you will."
The Garuda tapped Dai Shengyan's cheek with her saber. "Aren't you going to beg for your life, old man? You could claim to have a large family depending on you, a hundred mouths to feed. Maybe then I'd… Fine, I still wouldn't let you go."
Dai Shengyan forced a dry laugh, humoring her. "Before I die, I have one question: Why did you assassinate the prince?"
The Garuda stroked her chin. "Hmm. I suppose there's no harm in telling you now." She kicked the Prince of Joy's rotund corpse. "Anytime this scoundrel had nothing better to do, he went around snatching women off the streets. All the beautiful girls within a few hundred miles of Jiangzhou ended up in his residence. The women were sold into slavery, and the men couldn't find good wives. The men were furious, the women resentful. Isn't that reason enough to despise him?"
Dai Shengyan sighed. "The world is unjust, but killing is also unjust. Though he lived hedonistically, he never took a life. What you've done isn't justice but a crime."
"Justice?" The Garuda laughed. "I was paid to do this. It wasn't about justice; it was about money."
That stunned Dai Shengyan into silence.
"But is killing truly the greatest evil? If he could treat beautiful women as playthings, then I can treat humans as ants. Where is the injustice in that?" She looked down at the prince's corpse. Despite the wicked smile curving her lips, she resembled a temple statue watching from above, her gaze cold and emotionless.
Dai Shengyan suddenly understood. He straightened his robes and closed his eyes, ready to meet his end. "Do it."
He stretched out his neck so that it resembled the throat of an old duck pulled over a chopping block. His thin body didn't fill out his voluminous robes—they fluttered emptily in the wind, making him look like a scarecrow. It was somewhat comical.
The Garuda laughed again, the coldness in her eyes vanishing in an instant. "Well, actually, your death isn't set in stone. I happen to have a favor to ask of you."
"I won't do anything evil."
"I know, I know," the Garuda replied. "Here's the thing. I, uh, made a little mistake and ended up with a child."
She said this as casually as if she were talking about picking up a stray dog on the roadside—and not a particularly welcome one. Dai Shengyan's mouth twitched, but he said nothing.
"I haven't read much, so I've been struggling for months to come up with a good name. They say you're a great scholar, second only to Confucius, Mencius, and Zhu Xi." The Garuda pulled a piece of paper from her robe and handed it to Dai Shengyan. "This is my son's birth chart. Look it over, divine the trigrams and five elements or whatever, and then come up with a good name. If you do, I'll let you go. I've always respected scholars. It seems like a fair deal, doesn't it?"
Dai Shengyan shook his head. "My knowledge of divination notwithstanding, you're an outlaw, and I'm an official. Even if you spare my life, I'll have to post wanted signs with your portrait on the city walls tomorrow. There's no way around it, so just get it over with."
"Why're you so stubborn? Ah, forget it. Post them if you must. Do you really think you and all those useless government officials can catch me?" The Garuda stuffed the birth chart into Dai Shengyan's hand, then poked his shoulder with her saber. "Hurry up. I don't have much time."
Dai Shengyan took a deep breath, suppressing the storm of indescribable emotions in his heart.
The Garuda had been ruthless and cold when killing, but she was otherwise carefree and flippant. In all his years, Dai Shengyan had never met anyone like her.
Perhaps all those who rolled around in mountains of corpses and seas of blood were a bit twisted.
Glancing at the yellow paper in his hand and the Hengbo saber resting on his shoulder, he thought for a moment. "How about a single character for his name? 'Lian,' as in 'Amid the vast green wilderness, a shadow falls between the rippling waves.' That pairs well with your saber's name, 'Great Waves.'"
"A shadow falls between the rippling waves," the Garuda muttered a few times, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile. The unconcealable wickedness in her eyes tinged her seemingly kind smile with malice and mischief.
Dai Shengyan clutched his pounding chest and shrank back.
"Not bad, not bad," the Garuda declared. "That's the name, then. Thanks!"
She sheathed her saber and walked away, waving. Dai Shengyan remained standing where he was, watching as the assassin disappeared into the darkness.
He never saw the assassin again. But the Garuda, who had already risen to fame, became the government's most wanted criminal. Still, for twelve years, no one knew her whereabouts. All they knew was that, wherever she went, someone inevitably fell to her Hengbo saber.
Her blade became Qiye Garden's deadliest weapon. When people discussed the Garden, everyone already knew about the Garuda.
A chill ran through Xie Jinglan's body—not because he was shocked by this tale of the Garuda, but because of the name Dai Shengyan had personally chosen: Lian.
He recalled Xiahou Lian's dagger and hidden darts, as well as his comments about his unreliable yet virtuosic mother. A terrifying thought crossed his mind, startling him so deeply that his hands and feet went cold.
It wasn't that Xie Jinglan had never heard of Qiye Garden assassins. After all, tales of assassins were often used to scare children in the streets and alleys; even Aunt Lan used to frighten him with such stories. However, he'd always thought such stories were old wives' tales or part of the warbling lyrics of an opera.
He'd never suspected that a real assassin was right at his side.
For a long time, his mind flicked between his companion Xiahou Lian and his image of an assassin; he couldn't reconcile the two. He could buy that Xiahou Lian had been a street urchin, a smooth-talking thief, or a wild child running feral through the mountains, but he simply couldn't believe that he was a cold-blooded assassin.
He recalled Xiahou Lian's typical antics—catching birds, teasing dogs, and playing with cats—then pictured a sprawled-out Xiahou Lian drooling in his sleep. Conflicting emotions bubbled within him. If every assassin is as stupid as Xiahou Lian, maybe Qiye Garden isn't that scary after all.
The government officials really were useless.
Dai Shengyan didn't notice Xie Jinglan's unease. He gazed out the window at the misty mountains and rivers, then sighed faintly.
Just then, a servant rushed in and approached Xie Jinglan. "San-shaoye, Xiahou Lian fell while climbing a building and got a shard of wood in his shoulder. He's just been brought back to the manor."
Xie Jinglan shot to his feet. "What did you say?!"
He hastily returned to Qiuwu Courtyard, where he pushed open the door to the side room and saw Xiahou Lian lying on the bed, groaning. The boy's shoulder was wrapped in layers of bandages, and bloodstained gauze swathed half his body.
Xie Jinglan was somewhat reassured to see that Xiahou Lian still had at least enough energy to groan. He sat next to the bed and said with just a hint of smugness, "You should've cracked your skull open too. Maybe next time you'll think twice before climbing the walls and roofs."
The physician was still there. Xie Jinglan turned toward them and cautiously inquired about Xiahou Lian's injuries. After confirming that he would fully recover with some rest, Xie Jinglan asked Aunt Lan to escort the doctor out.
"Thank goodness the steward was kind enough to call a renowned physician from Miaoshan Hall," Lianxiang said from Xiahou Lian's bedside. "Otherwise, considering your status and Shaoye being out of favor, you'd have been quickly bandaged at best. Who knows what complications might've arisen?"
Xiahou Lian, desperate to tell Xie Jinglan what he'd overheard, paid little attention to Lianxiang's words. He struggled to sit up, then grabbed Xie Jinglan's hand.
"What are you doing? Careful, or you'll reopen your wound," Lianxiang scolded him.
"Shaoye," Xiahou Lian said, "while I was wandering outside, I overheard thieves plotting to steal from the manor. I think they even mentioned murder! You should warn the lord to start being warier."
"You got yourself hurt just to eavesdrop on thieves?" Xie Jinglan asked.
"Well…something like that."
"Let them steal if they wish," Xie Jinglan said. "Qiuwu Courtyard has nothing other than pots, pans, and books. They won't get anything valuable from us. Was this really worth getting hurt over?"
"But I heard them talk about murder. I'm worried that something might happen to the lord..."
Xie Jinglan cut him off. "If he dies, he dies. He's just a figurehead. All he's good for is writing poems and chasing empty fame. If someone more competent takes over his position, the thieves might even have done a good deed."
"Oh dear!" cried Lianxiang, quickly closing the doors and windows. "Don't say such things, Shaoye. And be careful—someone could hear you!"
Xiahou Lian was lost for words. After a while, he added, "If the lord dies, you'll be an orphan."
"Am I not an orphan already?" Xie Jinglan asked indifferently.
Xiahou Lian forced a dry laugh. "I guess so." His face was as pale as paper. Exhausted from talking, he closed his eyes to rest.
Xie Jinglan looked at him, then brushed a strand of hair from his cheek. The boy had gotten hurt because of him.
Feeling indescribable warmth in his heart, Xie Jinglan unconsciously softened his tone. "Take care of yourself, Xiahou Lian. Don't worry about my affairs. I'm the lord, and you're my servant. Your only job is to serve me well. Leave the rest to me."