The big black umbrella was like a black lotus, slowly flowing in the rain of Chang'an City.
Sangsang did not know when she had let go of his sleeves. She asked raising her face and furrowing her eyebrows, "Young master, what did you say to Xiaoman previously in the Princess Mansion? Those palace mammies and imperial maids looked blue on their faces."
Ning Que looked at the little girl who pretended to be calm, and could not help thinking of the recurrent scenarios those years in Minshan. He had carried her from this peak to another, from the cottage to another, while he was terribly busy in exploring ways and telling fairy tales to lull the little girl in the pack basket. Now he could not help rubbing her head with a smile, and said, "To tell fairy tales... You know that's what I'm good at."
"Which one, The Cinderella or Three Pigs?" Asked Sangsang, in curiosity.
"The Little Prince"
Sangsang asked seriously in frown, "The Little Prince? Could he understand?"
Ning Que felt stunned, considering that it was really a question.
The master and servant were chatting all the way towards the north in the drizzle of the deep spring. They crossed the Tongxiao Fang, then back to the Eastern City. They bypassed the entrance to the street and walked deeper to the Eastern City rather than go into the Lin 47th Street. The Old Brush Pen Shop was closed today. No one knew when Sangsang had quietly brought back a podao wrapped tightly by the cloth. Traces of rain could be slightly seen on her shoulders.
The rain gradually became heavy. Pedestrians in the street of Eastern City were forced to return to their homes or workshops. Ning Que and Sangsang stopped in front of a remote slum. They stood under the eaves of the desolate and worn-out Haotian God Temple with the big black umbrella, looking into the lane and listening silently to the sound coming out from the smithy in the rain.
Sangsang said in a low voice, "The smithy'll be closed in a while, and young masters'll be busy arranging today's orders, while Chen Zixian'll rest back to the backyard. I heard that he rarely strokes the hammer these years. And then he'll be the only person left in the courtyard, and it's relatively convenient for us due to the rain today."
Ning Que looked up at the leaden clouds and the dim light in the sky, silently calculating the time. After guessing that it was just about the time, he passed the big black umbrella to Sangsang and asked her to wait there. He then took out a bamboo hat from his back to put it on and then walked towards the west of the lane. He passed through two streets in the increasingly heavy rain, getting near to the backyard of the smithy.
No one would notice the scraping sound made by tough boots' stepping on the uneven stone road and on the water. Ning Que watched the rough wooden door that was not far away, and slowly stepped forward. He held the podao tighter and tighter with his left hand, recalling all the information of the second name in his heart.
Names on the oilpaper were the important figures in the slain massacre of Xuanwei General's Mansion and the village of Yan territory. This information was found by Zhuo Er and was exchanged with his sweat and life during the time while he was a spy in the Military Ministry under the command of Xia Hou.
Chen Zixian, 47 years old and the vice-general under the commander of the former Xuanwei General, was rewarded by the imperial court since he first accused Lin Guangyuan, Xuanwei General, of treason. Yet, he was deprived of the feats and was compelled out of the military due to his try of provocation in the 4th year of Tianqi era. After that, his family fell in hard times. His wife got departure with him and brought his two little sons back to hometown. Yet he stayed in Chang'an city to become a destitute master in a smithy in a slum of Eastern City.
Most names on the oilpaper list were not doing well after the two incidents except for two or three senior officials, who still enjoyed the prominent position and high salary. The censor who had died in his hands was down in the dumps all days, while some of them lived in mortal dread. Chen Zixian who was behind the door of the courtyard lived a dog's life.
Ning Que did not know why. In accordance with logical reasoning and common plots in stories, those guys, who had ever persecuted the faithful and honest and betrayed their masters in conspiracy, must be extremely aggressive and jolly before the revenge so that those people seeking revenge could feel a sense of pleasure and justice. However, things did not always go like this. They, who were determined to get revenge and killing, did not seem to live any better than those guys.
He had vaguely guessed that was the work of His Majesty, but he could not confirm and was unwillingly to think deeper. The heavy rain today and the call from the Princess Mansion provided a good opportunity for revenge. No matter how the official investigated, no one would or dared to suspect him. This was more important than anything else.
He looked down at the dripping rain from the edge of the hat, slowly moving his steps to get closer to that door.
The surface of the wrecked wooden door was slightly wet and cold when he pressed his fingers on it. He listened carefully to the sound coming from the smithy in the front of the courtyard. When he heard the sound of those heavy hammers tapping iron getting louder and more intense, his left hand which was holding the podao rose slowly and his right hand gently pushed the wooden door open.
The spindle of the old door was moistened by the rain and made a light stridor that sounded like a sob. Ning Que, who was wearing a bamboo hat, walked down the broken stone steps with a knife. He looked at the old man squatting in the courtyard, and said, "Chen Zixian?"
The old man wearing a thin old jacket outside the woodshed looked miserable. Some traces could be seen on his shoulder cuff for years of burning of the furnace fire, and several pieces of black cotton stretched out of the crevice of the crisp cloth. His gray and white hair was tied together at a random, and he was chopping the firewood with an axe and a wooden piece respectively in his thick, long and iron-like hands.
The old man looked up with a flash in his turbid eyes. He watched Ning Que who had pushed open the door and his shadow below the bamboo hat. The old man wanted to see clearly his face, and then said after a moment of silence, "Yes, I am."
Ning Que stopped to look around the simple courtyard, to confirm that all the apprentices were really in the front part of the lane and that no one was left in the courtyard. He turned around to close the door, and to unfasten the lacing of the hat around his neck with his right hand. And then he slowly held the front handle of the podao firmly and walked towards the old retired officer.
The Bamboo hat fell onto the ground in the rain.
Chen Zixian slowly blinked his eyes, and let go of the firewood in his left hand. His nails were full of black mud. After rubbing his left hand on the front of his clothes, he reached for the knife behind his back and raised the axe in his right hand simultaneously. He then said, looking at the pale lad who came from the wind and rain, "You're finally here."
Ning Que's podao was coming.
The sharp blade sharpened with the water of rice water in the Old Brush Pen Shop of Lin 47th Street for a few days was pulled lightning-fast out of the sheath. It easily cut off the old cloth that was tightly wrapped outside the sheath, the wind, the rain and the past, and eventually Chen Zixian's neck.
Chen Zixian lifted his knife, and a crisp buzzing was heard out of the collision of the two knives, while the rain was deflected from the blade.
At this point, a rush of forging sound could be heard in the front part of the lane, covering all the sound of the knives in the courtyard.
Zeng, zeng, zeng, zeng, zeng, Ning Que held the knife with two hands in the heavy rain and walked forward again with an expressionless face to split the neck, to cut off the head and to open the stomach of the other man. The podao stirred up admist the wind and the rain, to ruthlessly grind and clash with the knife and axe in the old man's hands.
Dang, dang, dang,dang, dang, the apprentices numbly sandwiched the red iron and waved the heavy hammer to strike the iron again and again next to the red stove. They did not hear anything but the raging storms outside the lane.
The muffled sound included the noises of hissing, the cutting of robes, the falling of ax and the chopping of wrist. The firewood outside the room scattered everywhere. Just for a moment Ning Que stroked the seventeenth blade, but Chen Zixian blocked the first sixteen one.
And then the sound of the knives disappeared, only noises of the wind, the rain and chopping board were heard.
Chen Zixian fell off to the side of the firewood, with his body full of sludge stains. A few drops of blood appeared on his darkish old face, and countless cuts in the thin jacket over the stomach. The gray cotton stretched around. The middle cut, the deepest one, reaching his bones and organs, kept bleeding and flowing out body fluids of different colors.
The rain was dripping down from the roof to the firewood, to his gray hair, to his distressed wrinkles on the forehead, and then flowed on the dark cheeks, which quickly washed away the drops of the blood.
Ning Que lowered his head and slowly put away the knife. He could not help but frown looking at the sharp rise and fall, and the dangerous axe mark in his chest. He never thought that an ordinary deputy general of Tang Empire in those years still had such tough combat ability after so many years od torment and hardship in the bottom of the market.
Chen Zixian powerlessly looked at the lad in front with his cloudy eyes. He seemed to have a lot of sputum in his throat. He gurgled painfully, and two mouthfuls of bloody sputum were coughing out. He said weakly, "I thought I had long been forgotten by this world."
"You are indeed one of the strongest amongst those who have been forgotten. No one in the imperial court dared to hire you probably because you betrayed your master for the sake of glory. I don't know if you have ever regretted in these years."
Ning Que wiped away the cold rain on the face, looking at the dying old man. "It won't cause too much trouble if I want to kill you, since you've been forgotten by the world. Besides, I've been admitted into the Academy, so killing you is regarded as an indispensable part of the celebration, just like flowers and pigeons."
Chen Zixian's old weak eyes were filled with bewilderment, and he whispered, "Please give me a quick finish."
"It 's still early, and it needs a longer time for your poor apprentices to finish the orders today."
Ning Que took a glance at the sky where the clouds hung over the curtains of the rain and where the sun was missing. However he knew he still had a lot of time. He said in a slight voice, "It's for my enjoyment. You've made me miserable these years, so you don't expect to die soon."
"I have a poem to read to you," he said calmly looking expressionless at the old man in the firewood, "I come from the mountains and rivers. I come from Yan territory of the grassland. I come from the General's Mansion. I come to take your life."
Upon hearing the words General's Mansion, Chen Zixian's turbid eyes suddenly became bright and his face gradually became relieved with his trembling hands subconsciously gesticulating in the wet firewood. He said in tremble, staring at Ning Que's childish face, "So that's how matters stand. So... the general's son is still alive. You... you said... you've been admitted to the Academy. That's really good... really good. I've lived such a tired life these years... To know before my death that the son of the general is still alive... and live a good life... I can really rest in peace."
"Who is not tired of living?" Ning Que looked down on the hollows which were made by the impact of rain upon ground, and whispered, "I had to learn calligraphy, Mathematical Olympiad, piano and drawing and to run around on the back of mother's bike every weekend and finally get more familiar with the children s palace than my home. Am I not tired?"
Chen Zixian did not understand this dialogue. He clutched the bleeding cut, shaking his head painfully.