Chapter Sixty-Three: Bloodstained Sanwei Residence

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It was the Qingming Festival, and once again, it rained. The rain pattered on without pause, day and night, knocking against the ancient lattice windows before falling onto the bluestone and vanishing without a trace. The fragrance of apricot-blossom wine still lingered in the air, drifting with the wind, now near, now far, in delicate wisps.

Outside the military tent, the rain had begun to fall again.

Li Zisheng had no idea how Deng Qing and the others had arranged matters.

Yet this Hongmen Banquet had come to an uneventful end. Even Deng Qing, Mr. Zhong, and the others had disappeared. There had been no further word regarding the literary exchange with the Turkic delegation. On that point, even Li Zisheng felt as though matters had ended in mid-sentence, abrupt and jarring.

Still, when the sky fell, someone taller would bear the weight. There was no need for him to worry about it.

Today was the Qingming Festival. The commotion outside the camp had vanished since yesterday, and for reasons unknown, the soldiers all seemed to be preparing to return home for the festival. Soldiers stationed at the frontier to guard the nation normally had no opportunity to visit their families, yet for some inexplicable reason, they had suddenly been granted one.

The message received by the soldiers was that those whose homes lay nearby could return directly to pay their respects. Those from farther away could accompany comrades from nearby whom they knew well and return with them to their hometowns, if only to ease their homesickness. They were allowed a single day.

Thus, when Li Zisheng awoke that morning, he discovered that only a handful of soldiers remained outside the camp, patrolling in scattered groups. Even he could not help marveling at the sight. In this ancient world, the soldiers guarding a military camp actually had the chance to return home and visit their families. What sort of reasoning was that? If the enemy attacked at that moment, there would be gaps throughout the army, and no one would come out of it well.

This was an enormous military taboo. Even if the troops were hastily assembled at the last moment, the resulting collapse in morale would likely end in the complete defeat of the army.

Li Zisheng could understand this much. How could Deng Qing not? The soldiers could return home only because the supreme commander of the Lingzhou garrison possessed the authority to let them leave the camp.

But at such a critical moment, even though it was Qingming, Deng Qing could not possibly have been so foolish. The Turkic delegation was still nearby, yet he had released every soldier. It was completely contrary to reason.

This was what Li Zisheng could not understand.

“Zhang Ying, let us go. There will be several more corpses in the Lingzhou garrison before long.”

The old man gazed at the faint rain beyond the tent. Yet in his eyes, those countless drops had already turned red, as though stained with blood.

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As if possessed, Li Zisheng slung his small cloth bundle over his back, called for Ba Liang from another tent, and left the camp with him. Together, they headed for the Three-Flavors Tavern to see what had become of it.

“Crows mourn and magpies cry among the darkening trees; on the Cold Food Festival, whose household grieves?

“Wind sweeps across the open fields, sending paper offerings flying; ancient tombs rise in rows beneath green spring grass.

“Begonia and pear blossoms shine against white poplars—everywhere, places of parting between life and death.

“Beneath the shadowy earth, cries from the deepest springs go unheard; in the desolate evening rain, the living return home.”

A fine rain fell. On this Qingming day, the people along the road carried oil-paper umbrellas, though they appeared only in twos and threes. There were not many of them.

As Li Zisheng walked, he did not know why he had left the camp. He only knew that his mind was deeply unsettled, gripped by an inexplicable sense of danger. So, in the drizzle of Qingming, he had come out to clear his thoughts—and, by some strange twist of fate, had found his way to the Three-Flavors Tavern.

“Master, there are far too few people on the road. They must all have gone to make offerings to their ancestors. On the Cold Food Festival, everyone eats outside.”

Li Zisheng, too, found it strange. There truly were very few people on the streets that day.

Step by step, they reached the Three-Flavors Tavern. It looked as though the establishment had not opened, yet the half-closed door suggested otherwise.

Li Zisheng did not announce himself. He pushed the door open and entered. Before he had even crossed the threshold, he clearly caught the heavy smell of blood. The stench was so strong that it made him dizzy.

He hurried inside. The first thing he saw was the fat tavern keeper. A knife had been driven into the man’s chest, and blood continued to pour out. His face had already turned livid. Beneath his feet lay a black-clad assassin, but the black cloth covering the man’s face had fallen away. Li Zisheng immediately recognized him as a Turk.

“Master? Master?”

Li Zisheng rushed forward and felt the tavern keeper’s pulse.

“Too late.”

The tavern keeper’s voice was as faint as a thread. It was clear that even those two words had cost him tremendous effort. After taking his pulse, Li Zisheng knew that the man was beyond saving. Even an immortal could do nothing for him now. There was no treatment that could save his life. All that remained was to do whatever could still be done.

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The fat tavern keeper looked at Li Zisheng, a glimmer of hope still shining in his eyes. Seeing it, Li Zisheng was about to tell him that he could not help, that there was no way to bring him back.

But he had clearly misunderstood the tavern keeper’s meaning.

“Zisheng, I spent my whole life calculating every move, so perhaps this fate is only natural. I ask only that you do one thing for me.”

The tavern keeper’s lips had begun to stiffen, and his words were becoming increasingly indistinct.

“All right. So long as it is something I, Li Zisheng, can accomplish, I will do everything in my power.”

“Zisheng, three inches beneath the roof tiles, above the main roof beam, there is a box. Inside it are a book and a painting. If you have the opportunity, I hope you will give the painting to a woman named Spring Apricot. She has a red mole beneath her right ear. Take it down. Do not concern yourself with me. Hide in the tunnel at once. Something major is about to happen in Lecheng. Remember—come out only after four days. As for the book, if fate brings you to it, you will…”

Li Zisheng watched as the tavern keeper breathed his last and closed the man’s eyes. Ba Liang had not heard the entire exchange and was anxious, but seeing how calm his master remained, he did not give way to panic.

Gatherings and partings are never certain; how could fallen leaves know when flowers would bloom? Life and death are decreed by fate; in the end, prosperity and decline return to the roots.

Once, the fat tavern keeper had stood at the entrance of the Three-Flavors Tavern, welcoming all with a smile. Now he had returned to the world beyond. Truly, nothing in life remained constant.

Knowing that time was precious, Li Zisheng followed the tavern keeper’s instructions and soon retrieved a box from above the main roof beam. A thick layer of dust covered it, suggesting that it had been hidden there for a very long time.

The tavern keeper had told him to hide in the tunnel and had warned that something grave would happen in Lecheng.

But this was not the time to ponder his words. Li Zisheng quickly followed the route he remembered and entered the tunnel. Once he and Ba Liang had gone inside, the tunnel inexplicably sealed itself. Li Zisheng discovered that it had become a completely one-way passage.

Deep within the tunnel, the two of them eventually reached a place resembling a central chamber. Whether this had been arranged by the fat tavern keeper beforehand or not, the chamber was fully stocked with food, furniture, and everything else they might need.

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