Chapter Seventy-Two: Veil of Rain

The sound of summer rain poured down in torrents, the occasional carriage rushing past and sending water splashing in all directions, pedestrians on the road hurrying along. From a distance, one could see that the shop at the corner was lit with several oil lamps. Though the light was not especially bright, the careful arrangement gave the place a warm and inviting atmosphere amid the dimness of the rainy day, making passersby yearn to step inside and rest.

The curtain of rain seemed to separate that world from the rest. Inside the shop, a man and a woman conversed, with a servant standing behind the man. Their words were drowned out by the rain, inaudible from afar; but at one moment, the elegant woman shook her head apologetically and bowed. Their exchange did not end immediately, but after a long while, they finished their conversation. The gentleman in dark blue robes nodded courteously in farewell, opened his umbrella, and, accompanied by his scar-faced attendant, stepped into the rain.

He did not look back until the glow of the shop faded from sight behind him. The downpour was thunderous. Turning the corner, he finally spoke: "To Haijing Lane."

The torrential evening rain showed no sign of stopping. Haijing Lane was not far; in earlier years, the area had been a bustling dock, crowded with merchant ships and goods. But after a new dock was built, the place fell into neglect. Now, the lane was filthy and chaotic, teeming with all sorts—a place infamous for its complexity in Jiangning city, where fights and stabbings occurred almost daily. Ordinary families warned their children to stay away.

For all its chaos, the lane was lively. Lowly merchants, itinerant performers, penniless foreign traders, destitute scholars, freelance courtesans, and gang members all made their homes here. By the time Gu Yanzhen and Old Six arrived, the low-lying streets had become pools in the heavy rain, though the shops and taverns on both sides shone brightly with light. They walked some distance inside, closed their umbrellas before the largest tavern they saw, and entered.

Amid the glow of oil lamps and torches, a crowd filled the tavern’s main hall. Tough, dangerous-looking men with weapons at hand ate, drank, and boasted loudly; ruffians joked with their companions and teased the women seeking patrons; impoverished scholars ate hungrily with their heads down; some looked nervous and alert, glancing about as they ate; drunken men vomited; children ran and shouted.

Gu Yanzhen, with his refined bearing, seemed out of place and drew curious glances, but Old Six’s sullen gaze and the scar on his face quickly discouraged further interest. A lone, easy target was easy prey, but with a man like Old Six by his side, few would dare risk it. They claimed a table by paying a bit of silver to drive off a downcast scholar, then had the waiter clean up and serve fresh food and wine.

In the rowdy atmosphere, they waited quietly. When the food arrived, Gu Yanzhen said, “Uncle Six, have a seat. It will be a while yet.” Old Six obeyed but did not touch the food. After a moment, Gu Yanzhen asked, “Uncle Six, is there something you wish to say?”

“I only worry that, with your new appointment approaching, these small matters may lead to complications.”

“Last time, you supported me.”

“Only because it concerned your prospects…”

“To me,” Gu Yanzhen smiled, glancing at Old Six, “it’s all minor. The difference is only in whether I act or not. Last time’s issue was not necessarily great, but I cleared an obstacle. This time’s matter is not necessarily small. I returned to Jiangning largely because of this. Even if things are not perfect, a conclusion is needed.”

He paused. “Uncle Six, among my friends, how many do you think have ever set foot in Haijing Lane?”

“...I fear not many.”

“Nothing but bookish pedants, laughable really. They think writing a few poems makes them elegant; they frolic with women on boats, boast of state affairs, and fancy themselves saviors of the land. Yet three years ago, on the road to Dongjing, when we were beset by bandits, those who were so eloquent before were soon in panic. Only a few remained calm in front of the bandits; when the blade came down, they cried and begged for mercy.”

He raised his hand to the level of his eyes. “These pure scholars think reality lies here.” He pressed his hand down to the tabletop. “But true reality is here. Those men, mocking each other with clever words at the Literary Tower, thinking it a great victory—what’s the point? Not long ago, when that man’s status as a son-in-law was revealed, Shen Zishan thought exposing him was a triumph, taking pleasure in another’s misfortune. But in truth, what did it matter? It’s like if I farm all year and harvest nothing, and seeing another also fail makes me happy—what meaning is there? Am I not still hungry?”

“Since childhood, I have always distinguished what I truly desire from what I do not care for. If I want something, I pursue it relentlessly. Even if the result is not perfect, I never give up. If I can achieve eighty percent, then eighty; if seventy, then seventy. Should I become an official, I would do the same for the common people. If things are not perfect, should I then do nothing?”

He tapped the table. “The world today is in chaos, the Wu dynasty’s foundation as fragile as an egg. The scholars talk endlessly of peace—what use is it? Like those storytellers in Dongjing, who tell tales of who humiliated the arrogant envoys from Liao, and the listeners are delighted, but when they truly meet a Liao man, they avoid him. Are we not still bullied by the Liao? We must act in accordance with our hearts, knowing what we truly want…”

“In truth, I am still young and lack self-restraint. This time, I returned with too many desires. I always knew that *Zi was heartless, but I did not expect Yun Zhu to be so ordinary, which disappointed me. In a few years, I would not let such feelings control me, but if I left now, in the future, this would become a knot in my heart, an obstacle I could never overcome.” He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the shock and confusion after being slapped in the street, and the ridicule of those watching.

“One man, bowing for a bowl of rice, marrying into a merchant family, writes two poems and thinks himself a famous scholar, perhaps even unique and unconventional. Another, doing petty trade, considers himself pure and noble, forgetting his past. Both are nothing but ordinary ants. Uncle Six, in today’s world, what is truly a great matter? These are trifles, easily handled. In the future, when I go to Leping, then farther north, what will this matter count for?”

When he finished speaking, his gaze drifted toward the door. Two figures were already approaching through the rain.

Haijing Lane, Welcome Inn.

The place bustled with noise and the dim, yellow light of lamps. Old Six rose from his seat and stood by Gu Yanzhen. Gu Yanzhen’s expression flickered, then returned to its usual calm. At the entrance, two figures in straw rain cloaks entered, scanning the room, their presence enough to quiet some conversations. Those who frequented this place all knew these two. The inn’s waiter hurried over—he barely reached the chest of the man in front, seeming childlike by comparison.

Both newcomers were burly and tall, not dressed as martial men, but like fishermen. The leader stood over two meters tall, broad and well-built, his gaze steady. The other, slightly shorter, was as formidable as an iron tower, his face covered in scars, skin dark, eyes small and fierce. Such men were the sort others most dreaded to provoke—in comparison, even Old Six seemed frail.

After surveying the room, the leader brushed past the waiter and strode toward Gu Yanzhen and Old Six, attracting little attention from most, save a few out-of-town martial artists, who turned to watch. The iron tower of a man stopped and glared, and after a moment’s standoff, the martial men looked away.

The iron tower followed his companion, then seemed to spot something, tapped the taller man and said a few words. The taller nodded, and the iron tower moved aside while the leader approached Gu Yanzhen, clapping him heartily on the shoulder.

“Master Gu, it’s been a long time.”

His voice was deep but quiet enough not to be overheard. Gu Yanzhen was nearly knocked off balance, but steadied himself and replied coolly, “I have a job for you.”

“What kind this time?”

“Much the same as before.”

“There have been assassins about, things are tense these days.”

“They’ll withdraw tomorrow.”

“Haha, as expected of a young master…”

The big man sat, dwarfing Gu Yanzhen by comparison, laughing and scanning the room. Gu Yanzhen glanced over as well, just in time to see someone leap from a table and run; the iron tower followed in a few steps, seized a bench, and smashed the fleeing man to the ground.

“Trying to run?” The second blow shattered the bench. “Old Huang, it’s not good to owe money and not pay up.”

“Forgive him, my brother just collects debts.” The big man took a drink.

“Since when do you two lend at interest?”

“Is that your business?” Gu Yanzhen had asked in jest, but the big man’s look silenced him, and he felt embarrassed. The big man patted his shoulder again. “Young master, remember your place. Don’t ask what you shouldn’t… It’s not much money, and I’m no loan shark. But if he never intended to pay me back, he shouldn’t have borrowed.”

Just then, Old Six tapped Gu Yanzhen on the shoulder. Gu Yanzhen glanced toward the side of the tavern, where two constables were passing outside, their attention caught by the commotion.

“I’ll go upstairs.” With that, he waited for the big man’s nod and headed for the stairs with Old Six. Once at the top, he paused to look back.

The sounds of beating and cursing continued below, the victim’s pleas for mercy growing ever more desperate. Such scenes were common in Haijing Lane. The two constables hesitated at the door, clearly reluctant to intervene, but seeing the bloodied man on the floor, the older one finally stepped forward. “Stop it, Yang Heng! Are you trying to kill someone?”

The constables were a head shorter than the iron tower of a man—together, they might match him, but still, they had to show deference. The man on the floor, barely conscious, dragged himself behind the constables, blood gushing from his mouth. “Second Master Yang, I’ll pay, I swear! I’ve joined the Iron River Gang—my boss is Master Tan. For his sake, give me two more days, I’ll pay…”

“Master Tan? My brother and I don’t belong to any gang, but even your boss would show us respect. Dropping his name—does that count for anything?”

With that, he grabbed another bench and smashed it down. He was about to continue when the younger constable stepped in, half-drawing his saber. “Stop!”

The older constable quickly held him back. The iron tower man, Yang Heng, paused. “Chief Zheng, is this lad of yours new?”

The older constable eyed him. “If you keep beating him, he’ll die.”

“Hmph.” Beating and crippling a man was one thing—killing was harder to explain. Yang Heng snorted, raised his hand. “Fine, I, Yang Heng, am a law-abiding man. Out of respect for you, Chief Zheng, I’ll let it go. He owes me money, I was in the right, but I won’t press it further. Just keep your new lad in line; drawing a blade so easily—someone could get scared.”

He tapped the young constable on the forehead. Behind, the battered man gasped, “I’ll pay, I’ll pay…” Yang Heng knelt and looked him in the eye. “No need. Take it as payment for your medicine. Just remember: there are two kinds of people in this world—ruffians and desperados. You’re a ruffian. If you want dirty money, take it from your own kind, not from men like us.”

With that, he turned to rejoin his brother.

The younger constable, red-faced, was dragged away by the older man. Outside in the rain, the younger asked, “Chief, who are those men?”

The chief’s face was grim. “The Yang brothers, Yang Yi and Yang Heng. Best not to cross them.”

“How can such men act so brazenly?”

“Those two… are true desperados.” The chief took a deep breath. “But they usually keep to themselves and don’t make big trouble. None of the local gangs dare provoke them. Years ago, Yang Yi once stormed the Iron Sand Gang alone, dragged a boss’s entrails around the street three times, bathed in blood—a true killer…”

“...They have blood on their hands?”

“Everyone knows they must. The gangs fight, but there’s never enough evidence. They don’t bother with petty squabbles. That gambler deserved what he got—he once gambled away his own daughter, and now borrowed from those brothers. Serves him right. Years back, when Chief Lei was around, he tried to bring them down—caught Yang Yi, but Yang Heng threatened to kill Lei’s whole family if his brother was harmed. In the end, he had to let him go. Still, they sent gifts to Lei’s house afterward. Since then, nobody wants to cross them…”

The older constable finished, leaving the younger silent in surprise. The chief shook his head. “If you ever must, kill them both at once. Otherwise, stay out of it—they’re too dangerous. Still, they have their own code. That’s what makes them truly fearsome. Haijing Lane is full of ruffians… as long as nothing too outrageous happens, we let it be…”

Lightning split the sky as the two constables moved on. Back in the tavern, the Yang brothers ascended to the second floor, where they entered a private room and began their negotiation with Gu Yanzhen.

The ancient city of Jiangning, shrouded in endless rain…