Chapter 22 – A Corpse

Sushi10-12 minutes 23.01.2022

“A corpse?” Fang Tinglan raised a brow.

“Many corpses!” The old beggar stretched his arms out to show the distance, “Every several feet there’d be a body lying on the ground. One of them still seemed alive, their eyes not yet shut. I moved closer and held up the lantern. It was a young girl! Blood continually flowed from her mouth; one glance told us she wasn’t going to make it.”

“Was it robbery?”

“No, no.” The beggar waved his hand dismissively. “You must not have been here very long, mister. These areas, they’re chaotic! Eight years ago it was worse!” He sniffled and pointed behind himself. There sat the palace.

“In order to climb into that seat back then, the cripple kept the gallows busy for an entire month and the guillotine’s blade was changed countless times — and these were only the official deaths! If you counted those that were taken care of privately, the bodies might even be enough to fill the entire Daoying River!”

Between the whispered conversations of the people around him, Fang Tinglan had already pieced together most of Abale’s deeds. In Tisu, the upper class disdained the emperor’s poor birth, the middle class loathed his vicious methods, and the lower class were oppressed to the point of owning only their own skin – who the emperor was didn’t matter to them.

On the other hand, this Amber Emperor was both respected and feared far more outside of Tisu. Even though the Liang King that Fang Tinglan was currently allied with busied himself uniting the different factions of Southern Hong, he didn’t forget to send people across the sea to Tisu as scouts. When he served, Fang Tinglan occasionally talked to the Beimo merchants in Chijin City. They would also mention that “If the Amber Emperor furrowed his brows, all the ships of Beimo’s eight federations would need to detour.”

This was a brutal leader — a brutally decisive and brutally strategic leader.

The conversation Fang Tinglan had originally participated in to pass time now actually gained his interest.

“So, sir1, you think that these people were murdered?” He asked the old beggar.

“Of course,” the man said confidently, “That young girl had a large hole straight through her chest and the others were either beheaded or missing limbs. If I hadn’t seen so many felons executed at Niutou Cliffs, I would’ve been scared witless!”

“You said earlier that your dog saved your life. How did that happen?”

“I’m just about to tell you. Young man, don’t be hasty.” The old beggar waggled his finger then continued speaking.

“In such a serious situation, my first thought was obviously to go back home. Otherwise, if the police happened to see me, they might even blame it all on me. But just as I was about to leave, someone came from the other side of the mountain. I was seriously scared, but there was nowhere to hide in that damned place. With no other choice, I could only turn to my dog. I gave her my lantern and told her, ‘Lutuo, you’re a good girl. Run for me, alright?’ It was as if she understood me! She took the lantern and ran off in the other direction. Hearing the sound, someone on the other side called out ‘Go take a look!’ and they ran after my dog. I took the chance to run home.”

“The dog never came back?”

“Never!” The man sighed.

“The next day the little herdsboys saw a field of corpses and reported it to the police. When the police came to question me, I said I knew nothing — I really didn’t know anything, right? Those who died were all Donghzou people, how could they have anything to do with me?”

“What did you say?” Fang Tinglan asked in shock.

“I said that they had nothing to do with me, no? I’m just a humble little peasant. Even my wife and troublemaker son had passed away. Life is rough; you die whether you make trouble or not. As a beggar, I live day by day…”

“I didn’t mean that.” Fang Tinglan hurried to interrupt the old beggar’s tangent. “You just said, the ones that died were all Dongzhou people?”

The man gave Fang Tinglan a look. For convenience, Fang Tinglan was dressed in Nanjing attire. Paired with his naturally high nose and deep-set eyebrows, his ethnicity might truly have been somewhat difficult to determine had his black hair and eyes not been a dead giveaway. The beggar eyed the intricate details on those expensive robes.

“Yes. They said it was around ten Dongzhou people, each shot to death.” He muttered, his mouth automatically replying.

“Then sir, do you remember if they had any distinguishing features?”

“That…” The man hesitated.

“I’ve troubled you, asking so much. You should go and buy some water, sir.” Fang Tinglan bent over and placed a silver coin in his hands

Seeing the money, the beggar’s eyes lit up. He placed the coin between his teeth, bit down, then mumbled.

“It was too dark to see anything clearly.”

“See what you can remember. It’s fine to just tell me anything that comes to mind.”

“Why do you2 need to know?” He asked, suddenly wary in the face of money.

“I’m an author from Dongzhou folk tales3 for the library.” He continued without a pause. “Ten Dongzhou people dying far from home makes an interesting subject.”

“Ha ha, you scholars only have money.” The man laughed mockingly and put the coin into his pouch, pretending to think hard.

“Distinguishing features, what distinguishing features can Dongzhou people have… Ah! I got it! Several of the dead had swords covered in blood! And that girl, she wore a scarf. Let me think… No, it probably wasn’t really a scarf, but was used to help cover her face.”

“… Assassins.” Fang Tinglan murmured.

“What did you say?”

“I thanked you for the story. When the time comes, I’ll write you a good role in my folk tale,” Fang Tinglan smiled. On the other end of the road, Qin Weiyu hurried towards him.

Could those dozen or so assassins that died brutally at Niujiao Cliffs have anything to do with the Shang Weiji that seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth? Fang Tinglan felt that the old beggar had come across something much deeper that year, but found it impossible to gain any more information from him.

He would have to meet some more Tisu people himself.

“Weiyu.” Fang Tinglan’s mouth formed an innocent smile to greet his old friend despite the countless plans forming in his mind.

“My bad, something came up so I ended up being late.” Qin Weiyu jogged up to Fang Tinglan and glanced at the beggar. “What were you guys talking about just now?”

“His dog.” Fang Tinglan said.

“Dog?” Qin Weiyu was confused. He recovered a moment later and turned to speak urgently.

“Never mind the dog or whatever; I can’t stay long. Earlier I was gathering information for you, which must have alerted some people. It took a lot of effort to lose them this time.”

“Them?”

“Who else?” Qin Weiyu gave a cold laugh. “My second brother of course. He’s worried that as the hostage, I’ll cause trouble here, so he uses whatever methods he can to monitor me.”

Qin Weiyu’s second brother was precisely the Liang King. Fang Tinglan looked at Qin Weiyu, startled by the cold indifference in his eyes. If it hadn’t been for his earnest promise and candid sharing of his secrets with Qin Weiyu that night, Fang Tinglan might have been mistaken as another of the Liang King’s chess pieces.

Fang Tinglan recalled their earlier meeting; it seemed that his childhood friend’s panic and tears, as well as his innocent and ignorant facade, were but an act for his brother. Rather than being angry, Fang Tinglan seemingly relaxed at this realization. In the end, everyone walked around wearing their respective masks; who cared about what lay beneath?

“I’ve troubled you. You only need to endure another year.” He consoled Qin Weiyu.

“Fair enough. What’s another year when I’ve already suffered through ten?” Qin Weiyu snorted in self-deprecation and shoved something into Fang Tinglan’s hands. “Anyways, I’ve at least managed to help you.”

“What’s this?”

“A lead on Fei Yi.”

“You found him?” Fang Tinglan asked incredulously.

“Not exactly,” Qin Weiyu shook his head. “A viscount lives at the address I just gave you. Ten years ago, he was a close attendant to the Amber Emperor. If Fei Yi actually came to Tisu, and if he met with the Emperor, then this viscount would have known. I can’t help send you there, so you’ll have to figure that out yourself.”

“No worries, you’ve already helped me plenty.”

Qin Weiyu smiled shyly and looked around before saying apologetically: “I need to leave now, or I’ll end up spending too much time; they’ll become suspicious.”

“Go then. When will we meet again?”

“Let me think…” Qin Weiyu beckoned his coachman over. “Next month, probably. There’s going to be a large play in the theaters next month; it’s called The Silver Key by the Lake. I’ll reserve a box. See you then.”

Fang Tinglan nodded in response and watched Qin Weiyu step into his carriage. This Chen King suddenly turned around, fixing Fang Tinglan with a complicated expression.

“Tinglan, I… can believe in you, right?”

“Of course. I’m always on your side; I have been in the past, and will be in the future.” Fang Tinglan promised with a smile.

Qin Weiyu tried and failed to force a smile before shutting the door.

Fang Tinglan only opened the note after Qin Weiyu left. The writing was messy, written in a hurry.

No. 9 Qipan Street, Chenming4 Palace.

Fang Tinglan tucked the note away. He intended to contact some informants, but a light chuckle sounded besides him just as he turned the corner.

“Officer Fang.”

The laugh was playful, but strange; it held the chilling bite of a venomous snake. Fang Tinglan looked over. The stranger calling for him leaned against the wall, whistling towards him.

Fang Tinglan frowned, his hand automatically reaching for the dagger at his waist.

“Who are you?”

“Me? I’m your colleague.”

1

sir: FTL has been using the respectful ‘you’ this entire time, probably because the beggar is older than FTL.

2

you: polite ‘you’ here

3

folk tales: (话本) this refers specifically to a form of ‘writing’ that served as a basic script for storytellers; prevalent during the Song and Yuan dynasties.

4

Chengming: (晨鸣) lit. dawn’s call