HCAW 13

Chapter 13 – A Single Arrow Stirring the Dust

Chu Kuang had now settled in at Fang Jingyu’s home.

He changed into a plain blue robe, tucked away his claws and fangs, and spent his days quietly sweeping the courtyard with head lowered and brows relaxed. Fang Jingyu treated him as a suspect and often tried to probe his background, but Chu Kuang’s mouth seemed locked shut; he refused to utter a single word about his past. If pressed too hard, he would roll his eyes back, pretend to foam at the mouth, and mutter vaguely, “I’m a fool with a hole through the head—I don’t know anything you ask!”

Fang Jingyu couldn’t do anything with this rascal and had no choice but to keep him under tight watch. But to his surprise, Chu Kuang was quite handy at mending clothes, chopping firewood, and tending to chores. During Fang Jingyu’s days off, laundry scented with soapberry was folded neatly and stacked in bright-latticed cabinets; firewood was piled in orderly stacks; not a single leaf remained on the packed dirt ground. While Fang Jingyu sat in the main room wiping his sword with a cotton cloth, Chu Kuang sat cross-legged at his feet, attentively sewing. His needlework hands flitted like butterflies among flowers, deft and quick, and beneath the needle bloomed an embroidered winding floral vine.

Fang Jingyu cast a sideways glance at him. In the warm amber lamplight, the criminal bent over his needlework looked elegant and composed, his brows and features clear and fine, like carved white jade. It was hard to tell his exact age—he seemed a little older than Fang Jingyu, but at times also appeared boyishly wild and youthful. A thought suddenly came to Fang Jingyu: he had seen this man somewhere before—but where?

So he asked, “Don’t you want to escape anymore?”

Chu Kuang slowly looked up, blinked, and grinned. “I’ve thought it through. I’m a smart man who knows when to yield. My wounds aren’t even healed—what’s the point of braving wind and rain out there? As long as you feed me, I’ll stay here like a good boy, hold your horse, and help you into the saddle.”

“You don’t want to escape—you just want me to let my guard down so you can flee when I’m not looking.”

Seeing his scheme laid bare, Chu Kuang didn’t argue. He just grinned slyly in the candlelight.

With a helper in the house, Qin Jiao was naturally overjoyed. Despite his deranged behavior, Chu Kuang could cook up a delicious meal. Even with dry millet cakes and buns where the skin outweighed the filling, Chu Kuang would add a dab of lard or a pinch of salted greens, creating an unexpectedly rich flavor that made both Fang Jingyu and Qin Jiao crave more. Stuffing her cheeks like a golden pouch deer as she ate, Qin Jiao mumbled to Fang Jingyu, “You tight-lipped gourd, where’d you find such a fine servant?”

Fang Jingyu said, “You’re satisfied?”

“Extremely satisfied!”

“Then keep a close eye on him. Don’t let him escape.” Fang Jingyu leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Because I suspect he’s a fugitive.”

That immediately perked Qin Jiao up. She swallowed the bun in a few gulps and asked, “What kind of fugitive? One with a hundred-tael bounty?”

Fang Jingyu didn’t want to tell her that Chu Kuang was the assassin from Zui Chun Garden, lest she tip someone off by accident, so he vaguely replied, “I’m still investigating. Just keep an eye on him.”

But Qin Jiao said, “He cooks so well—if he’s just some small fry, we shouldn’t hand him over.”

Fang Jingyu could only sigh in exasperation. This girl’s brain was clearly governed by her stomach—she’d already been bribed. He said, “That won’t do. Do you know how much I paid for him?”

“How much?”

“Ten taels of silver,” Fang Jingyu lied to scare her.

“Ten taels?! Were you kicked in the head by a donkey?” Qin Jiao shrieked.

“Because I believe he’s a major criminal worth far more than that.” Fang Jingyu tapped her on the head. “Understand now? Don’t let a cooked duck fly away.”

Qin Jiao instantly turned vigilant, blinking as she watched Chu Kuang’s every move. He was calmly organizing a lacquered clothes chest, looking obedient as ever. It made her sleepy just watching him. Half-dozing for a while, she cracked one eye open and mumbled, “Gourd, criminal or not, it’s hard enough to find a servant who works this well. He handles all the housework better than you. If he ends up in jail, who’ll keep the house running?”

Fang Jingyu snapped coldly, “He’s only been here a few days, and already you’ve turned into a lazy bag of bones with your marrow sucked out!” Thinking of what she’d just said, he actually felt a bit childish resentment. His face darkened. “And who said he’s better than me at housework? I’ve just been too busy lately to cook for you. Or have you forgotten who raised you?”

Qin Jiao snorted through her nose. “Then don’t raise me if it’s such a bother!”

A few days later, Zheng Deli also dropped by. Seeing how tidy Chu Kuang had kept the Fang household, he was stunned.

It had now been five days since the assassination attempt at Zui Chun Garden. Remembering the words of his mentor, the Yu Yin Guard, Fang Jingyu had gone to the training ground to accept his punishment, leaving only Qin Jiao and Chu Kuang at home.

Zheng Deli slipped into the main room and saw the brazier burning brightly, casting a warm red glow on the walls like fresh lacquer. Chu Kuang was lying on the couch with furrowed brows, flipping through one of Qin Jiao’s copybooks. The crafty slave was watched day and night by Fang Jingyu and Qin Jiao, with iron chains weighing thirty or forty pounds on his hands and feet. If he ever left their line of sight, Fang Jingyu would chain him up in the main room.

Zheng Deli walked over and hesitantly said, “Hey… do you remember me?”

Chu Kuang looked up, squinted at him for a while, and finally grinned. “Oh, it’s that limp noodle I met at Zui Chun Garden.”

Seeing him chained up, Zheng Deli grew bolder and snapped, “You’ve got some nerve to mock me! I gave you that carpenter’s axe to help you escape! You said you’d avenge my maid against Young Master Tao—but instead, you broke your promise and left me to take the heat! I’ve been getting punished by my father ever since—kneeling at the ancestral hall every single night!”

Chu Kuang had only just recalled the matter and hastily argued, “It wasn’t that I broke my promise—it’s just that I got caught by that old bastard Yu Ji Guard before I could act. I couldn’t get away. And now I’m locked up here. But if you can put in a good word for me with that cold-faced block of wood, I’ll take care of Young Master Tao right away—make him scurry away like a rat!”

But Zheng Deli had already been warned by Fang Jingyu and knew this man still harbored thoughts of escape, so he refused flatly.

Chu Kuang then asked, “In that case, why come begging me instead of going to that corpse-faced guy?”

Zheng Deli knew he was referring to Fang Jingyu, and replied dispiritedly, “He’s been summoned by the Yu Yin Guard to the training grounds for blade practice. Who knows when he’ll return. The Yu Yin Guard’s moods are as unpredictable as the weather. Jingyu’s absence could be half a month—or half a year. I can’t just sit around waiting for him. I need your help.”

“I’m trapped in this little courtyard—how am I supposed to handle anything outside? Unless you bring Young Master Tao here, I won’t be able to make a move.”

“Bring him here?”

“Yeah. Lure him into this courtyard. Once the gate’s shut, I’ll make him call you grandfather!” Chu Kuang cackled wildly, his laugh tearing through the air like ripping silk.

This was no easy task. Zheng Deli trembled inwardly. The Tao family was steeped in aristocratic tradition, and whenever he saw Young Master Tao in the past, all he could do was wag his tail and beg. To get that bastard to willingly step into this courtyard—it was as hard as reaching the heavens.

What’s more, this was Fang Jingyu’s residence. If he brought Chu Kuang in to strike here, wouldn’t he drag Fang Jingyu down with him? Countless thoughts swirled in his head like a kaleidoscope. In the end, Zheng Deli sighed and said, “Forget it. On second thought, now’s not the time to seek revenge.”

“Getting cold feet already?” Chu Kuang said. “Just as well—I was thinking the same. I hadn’t thought it through that night. But now I have. Seeking revenge right now brings nothing but harm.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Going up against the Tao family now would be like throwing an egg at a rock. You’re short-sighted—you see the tree, not the forest. Sure, I could vent your anger. But who’s going to clean up the mess afterward?”

As Chu Kuang spoke, he showed rare calm. His pupils were black and deep, like a bottomless well.

Zheng Deli’s emotions were a tangled knot. He knew Chu Kuang’s reasoning was sound. But whenever he thought of Xiao Feng’s pale, sorrowful face—the way she silently did needlework under the lamplight—the humiliation of being kicked and insulted by Young Master Tao returned unbidden. Could he really endure it in silence his whole life?

Fang Jingyu had promised to arrest Tao according to Penglai law, but Zheng Deli knew how difficult that path was. The Tao family held power and status and walked through Penglai with impunity. Instead of dragging Fang Jingyu into it, better to rely on this criminal before him.

The words stuck in his mouth like syrup, rolling around but refusing to come out. After a long pause, Zheng Deli asked with difficulty, “So you’re saying… you’ve changed your mind?”

Chu Kuang looked at him quietly, expression unreadable.

Zheng Deli steeled himself. “No. You have to help me. If Tao can do something so vile and get away unpunished, where’s the justice in that?”

He looked at Chu Kuang with pleading eyes. After a while, Chu Kuang finally said:

“Fine. I’ll help you. But you still need to bring him to this courtyard. Otherwise, I can’t strike.”

Zheng Deli’s eyes lit up, but he still asked cautiously, “What are you going to do to him?”

Chu Kuang smirked and made a bow-drawing gesture.

“What else?” he said. “One arrow, and he’ll shit himself bloody.”

———

It was temple fair day. The streets were packed with carriages and people; vendor stalls filled the roads. Rows of red lanterns hung like clusters of ripe fruit. Devotees burned incense and sought divine guidance, smoke curling upward to form a veil of mist.

Zheng Deli wandered through the crowd with a restless heart. He knew Young Master Tao would be loitering near Jinshan Temple and made his way there.

Sure enough, not far along, he saw a group of blue-robed attendants encircling someone like stars around the moon. The man wore fox-fur ear covers  and dazzling bi-colored gold robes. On his head was a silver crown with twin dragons clutching a pearl. Small eyes and upturned nose—none other than the lecherous tyrant, Young Master Tao.

Several divination stalls had been set up in front of the temple. Daoists in crimson-brown robes sat behind counters, displaying signs, fortune sticks, feather fans, and Sanqing bells.¹ Sacred Daoist instruments used to honor the highest Daoist deities and to purify ritual spaces.Young Master Tao was frowning as he watched the fortune-tellers toss coins and sort bamboo lots.

Besides his greed and lust, Young Master Tao had a passion for divination. Every time he sought an augury, it was about when he’d inherit the family legacy. After all, the Tao family had held high rank for generations, even receiving imperial gifts of “celestial fare.” The clan was vast and sprawling, and not everyone received equal favor. This Young Master Tao was one such neglected branch. But even a dying camel is bigger than a horse—if Tao wanted to throw his weight around, few in Penglai dared oppose him.

Zheng Deli strolled past slowly, pretending to admire the lantern play on stage. In his hand was a coin purse. With a soft “Ow,” he tossed the purse at the feet of Tao’s attendants.

Their eyes immediately snapped to it. A burly servant bent down and opened it—seeing copper coins inside, he weighed it and smiled broadly. “Well, what do we have here? A coin purse! Like meat pies falling from the sky!”

Zheng Deli hurried over, speaking timidly, “Sir, that purse… that’s mine.”

The burly attendant scowled. “Yours? Who saw you drop it?” He turned to his fellows. “You tell me—whose purse is this? Mine, or this coward’s?”

They laughed. “If it’s in your hand, then it’s yours!”

Their raucous laughter drew Young Master Tao’s attention. He had just drawn a fortune stick at the temple and had his fortune told, and both were bad. Especially the “Lady Su in Distress” omen, signifying misfortune at home and the need for caution. He was already in a foul mood, and now this laughter grated on his nerves. He stormed over and kicked the attendant hard.

“Stupid bastard! What’s so funny? I’m in a run of bad luck—does that amuse you?”

The attendants immediately clammed up, shrinking back like mice before a cat.

Tao snatched the purse from the burly man, gave it a shake, and caught sight of Zheng Deli standing nearby, shrinking away. He curled his lip.

“Well, well—if it isn’t Zheng the Gutsless. You bringing tribute to me now?”

Zheng Deli stammered, unable to get a word out. He nodded, then shook his head.

Tao opened the purse, took one look, and sneered. “Last time, I told you to bring some cash for my tea matches. This pathetic amount can’t even get you through the doors of Zui Chun Garden. Go fetch more!”

With that, he kicked Zheng Deli again. Zheng Deli nearly tumbled head over heels—but his heart soared. This was exactly what he had been waiting for.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go right now.” He kept his head down, acting as meek as ever, but his movements suggested he was about to bolt.

He knew Tao wouldn’t trust him and would follow to keep an eye on the silver. And once he stepped into Fang’s courtyard—that would be his moment to strike.

But Zheng Deli’s plan fell apart.

Young Master Tao clapped the burly attendant on the shoulder and gestured toward Zheng Deli with a jerk of his chin. “Follow this brat to his courtyard to fetch the silver. I’ll wait here. Go and come back quickly.”

Those words instantly made Zheng Deli feel like he had plunged into an icy abyss. He stammered, “Y-You’re sending your man with me?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“They’ll pocket the silver!” Zheng Deli gritted his teeth. He had to lure Young Master Tao to the Fang family courtyard today, no matter what. He pointed at the burly attendant and said, “Didn’t you see how greedy he looked when he picked up my coin pouch? If the money goes through him, you’ll be lucky if half of it reaches you!”

The attendant flew into a rage and raised a fist to strike him. But Young Master Tao just sneered. “Don’t think I can’t see through your little game. That road leads straight to Qingyuan Alley, where that Xian Mountain officer surnamed Fang lives. You want to lure me there—what exactly are you up to?”

Despite his thuggish looks, Young Master Tao was sharp. Zheng Deli felt his schemes exposed and cold sweat streamed down his back. It was as if a bucket of cold water had drenched him.

The sunlight suddenly turned scorching, his head spun, and the red lanterns lining the street seemed to sway. He clenched his teeth—if he couldn’t get revenge today, he’d forever be a coward! He threw everything to the wind and suddenly lunged forward, punching Young Master Tao hard in the face!

Zheng Deli wasn’t trained in martial arts, but that punch was full of fury. Blood spurted from Tao’s nose and mouth as he stumbled back several steps. While the attendants stood in stunned silence, Zheng Deli bolted.

Young Master Tao touched his face, felt a crooked nose and a handful of blood, and shrieked in terror:

“I’m dying! I’m dying!”

He pointed at Zheng Deli and bellowed, “Catch that filthy bastard! I used to have a face as pretty as a flower, and he ruined it with one punch!”

The attendants surged forward like a wave, surrounding Zheng Deli. Tao himself, clutching his nose, stormed after him—exactly what Zheng Deli wanted.

He sprinted toward the Fang family courtyard. As long as he got Tao inside that gate, he could avenge Xiao Feng.

But before he reached the alley, he suddenly felt darkness fall over him like water. A massive hand grabbed his wrist, and the burly attendant lifted him like a chick.

The rest of the attendants swarmed around him, forming a wall. Zheng Deli could only watch in despair as he was completely surrounded and cut off.

The human wall parted, and Young Master Tao stepped forward, pressing a bloody hand to his face and smiling with twisted malice.

“Well, well! I haven’t seen you in days, and now you’ve learned to bite! I already knew the truth. That Fang fellow has gone off to train with the Yu Yin Guard—he won’t be back anytime soon. Who’s going to stand up for you now? Even if I beat you to death right here, no one will help you!”

He laughed madly and punched Zheng Deli in the face. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

Someone yanked at his collar, dragging him toward the alley’s mouth. Panic flooded Zheng Deli—he was being pulled farther and farther from Fang Jingyu’s home!

Not only had he failed to lure Tao into the courtyard, his plan had been exposed. If Tao dragged him to some deserted place and beat him to death, he’d never avenge Xiao Feng. Never.

Terror surged like a tidal wave, but the more he struggled, the harder the punches rained down on his head and face. In a blink, his cheeks were bruised and swollen like steamed buns.

They were dragging him farther and farther. A stormcloud of despair closed over his head.

Tao yanked him along, grinning wildly. “Give up already. Penglai is like my backyard. I’m of noble blood—no one dares to cross me!” Then he leaned in, sneering, “Tell me, why’d you try to hire someone to beat me up?”

Zheng Deli didn’t answer. Tao flew into a rage, grabbed him by the collar, and flung him to the ground, then stomped on his head and face. “What, your mouth’s sewn shut now? Dumb as a gourd when it’s time to speak!”

Then he let out a sinister laugh. “Ah, I get it now. You did all this for that cheap maid of yours, didn’t you?”

Zheng Deli trembled violently. Tao’s voice buzzed like a wasp in his ears, crawling under his skin.

“That lowly bitch of yours is blind! She could’ve flown up the branches into our noble house, but she clung to your withered old family like moss on dead wood. I told her to come with me, and she refused! What an idiot!” Tao sneered. “Yes, yes—she was a dumb slut. I should’ve gouged out those eyes of hers back then!”

Zheng Deli’s entire body shook. He thought of Xiao Feng’s tear-stained face, her lonely silhouette under the lamplight, stitching in silence. She had always been gentle, obedient—never once had she cried in front of him, even when whipped for his sake.

How could he live the rest of his life bowing to this monster?

His fury boiled over. He roared like a maddened lion and lunged at Tao, fists flying.

The attendants surged in. Punches and kicks fell like a violent storm. Pain exploded from every part of his body, and Zheng Deli nearly lost consciousness. Young Master Tao, enraged, picked up a jagged rock and hurled it straight at his head.

Was this really how it would end? Beaten and crushed forever under Tao’s feet?

In his despair, Zheng Deli shut his eyes. But then—a shrill whistle tore through the air, as sharp as a hawk’s cry.

A shadow shot from afar, slamming hard into Tao’s back! He screamed and collapsed like a rag doll.

Zheng Deli snapped his eyes open, shocked. Embedded in Tao’s back was a feathered arrow. Its tip was blunted—but it had still sunk deep into the flesh.

He looked up in panic toward the direction the arrow had come from. Far in the distance, above the rooftops of grey tile, the top of the paulownia tree in the Fang courtyard just peeked into view. At its tip, barely visible, was a tiny silhouette the size of a sesame seed.

Zheng Deli’s blood ran cold. That arrow had struck Tao dead center—right at the Shenshu point on his back. ²A important acupressure/acupuncture point in traditional Chinese medicine On the lower back, about the width of two fingers lateral to the lower border of the second lumbar vertebra From over a hundred paces away! Even the strongest archers of the Penglai cavalry couldn’t shoot that far with any accuracy. But that criminal—he was different. Even from afar, his eyes were like a hawk’s, and he hit a vital point like it was nothing.

A weak groan sounded. Zheng Deli looked down and saw Tao foaming at the mouth, unconscious. A foul stench wafted up—he had lost control of his bowels. That arrow to the Shenshu point had been a ruthless shot. Tao would be paralyzed from the waist down for life—he wouldn’t even be able to use his own legs again.

At the same moment, back at the Fang family courtyard—

A clear voice rang out: “Hey! Chu the laborer, where did you go?”

Chu Kuang was perched at the top of the paulownia tree, bamboo bow in hand. He had dug it out from Fang Jingyu’s storeroom—wrapped in cloth, crude in material, just bamboo and sinew. But in Chu Kuang’s hands, that arrow had flown farther than anyone could have imagined.

He slid down the trunk, hiding the bow behind his back like a monkey. In the courtyard below stood the red-robed girl, hands on hips. She yelled, “You climbed a tree? Trying to run off again?”

Chu Kuang was ready. He pulled a little cricket cage woven from palm leaves from a branch and grinned. “I was looking for leaves to weave a cage. The best palm fronds grow over the wall—had to climb to reach them.”

Qin Jiao, guileless as ever, brightened at the sight of the cricket cage and squealed in delight. “Wow! You made this? It’s so cute!” She hugged the cage lovingly.

After a moment, she said sternly, “You can’t go climbing like that anymore! Gourd said you’re only allowed in the house. Come on—back inside with me.”

She tugged the iron chain looped around Chu Kuang’s neck and led him back toward the side room.

Chu Kuang replied smoothly, “As the lady commands.”

He let her lead him away. But as they passed the courtyard well, his wrist flicked—and with lightning speed, he tossed the bamboo bow down the well.

Qin Jiao glanced back, sensing something—but saw nothing unusual.

Chu Kuang smiled at her, eyes low, face blank and harmless.

He looked just like a lapdog.

• 1
  Sacred Daoist instruments used to honor the highest Daoist deities and to purify ritual spaces.
• 2
  A important acupressure/acupuncture point in traditional Chinese medicine On the lower back, about the width of two fingers lateral to the lower border of the second lumbar vertebra