The traveling merchants were eager to meet Shen Zechuan, anxious about their own business dealings.
The hall was noisy, a cacophony of mixed accents, each party speaking past the other. Without Yan Heru mediating, many couldn’t even speak proper Mandarin. Yan Heru had set up this “small marketplace” in Dunzhou; the merchants had traded with bandits and border tribes, dealing in tea, salt, copper, and iron. Now that Yan Heru was in custody, they feared Shen Zechuan might hold them accountable. They had agreed to come together, hoping to create a “collective immunity” scenario.
Morning Yang instructed the maids to serve tea. Not only was the hall packed, but even the corridor below was full of merchants who had heard the news. They came from all corners of the south and north, pressing together in chaotic crowds, turning the courtyard into a bustling scene.
Shen Zechuan sat quietly, responding “reasonable” to anything he heard. The merchants’ disputes dragged on until evening with little progress. Shen Zechuan seemed to answer everything, yet nothing concrete came from him, leaving the merchants frustrated, hungry, and simmering with impatience.
Xiao Chiye had finished discussing military affairs with Dantai Hu next door. Coming out to see the dimming sky, he noticed lanterns had been lit in the hall. Outside, merchants sat or leaned in all manners, while inside Shen Zechuan still entertained their disputes.
Fei Sheng drew aside the curtain, whispering to Xiao Chiye: “Master asks if the military affairs are concluded. If so, shall we dine?”
Xiao Chiye asked, “Have these people been sent away?”
Fei Sheng replied, “The Master said not to send them away; they are to stay, and tonight they are even invited to lodge here.”
Xiao Chiye nodded. “Then let’s move the meal to the adjacent courtyard.”
The merchants were determined to get a definitive answer from Shen Zechuan, at the very least to see Yan Heru. Their goods were stored in Yan’s estate, and with the Bian Sha cavalry and bandits having withdrawn, they worried about their property. Yan Heru had personally vouched for them; whether the goods stayed or went, they needed clarification.
But Shen Zechuan’s skillful evasions provided no clear answer. The merchants, cautious of Dunzhou’s garrison, dared not confront him, enduring their anger and sitting it out to wear him down.
After reviewing Dunzhou’s urgent matters, Shen Zechuan, noting the time and Fei Sheng’s return, rose and addressed the merchants with a smile: “You’ve been sitting here all day. We can discuss matters more thoroughly later. I have arranged a banquet; we shall talk in detail then.”
He left without further explanation, Fei Sheng lifting the curtain and stepping outside.
The merchants inside waited a while, seeing neither Shen Zechuan return nor the maids bring food. When they drew the curtain, they found only familiar faces remaining in the courtyard—no guards in sight.
A man, having smoked a few pipes, panicked, slapping his thigh: “Could it be they’ve fled?”
The merchants clustered in alarm, rushing to the courtyard gate, only to find it firmly blocked.
Someone shivered: “Could it be an attempt to silence us? Impossible! Master, we are all merchants with proper government permits!”
Fei Sheng, hearing the pounding at the door, shouldered his sword: “Stop babbling. The Master invited you to rest in the courtyard; you refused to leave, so sleep here!”
The merchants shouted, “We want to see the Master!”
Fei Sheng sneered: “Haven’t you seen him already? My Master stayed inside with you all for half a day.” He moved a chair before the door and sat, continuing: “We’ve examined all your goods. Copper and iron are strictly forbidden by the authorities; you won’t smuggle them out so easily.”
“Everything’s chaotic now!” The previously smoking man leaned through the door gap, arguing: “Shipping a few batches isn’t hard; it’s a one-time business. We are honest people!”
Fei Sheng ignored him, taking up a ledger: “Do you know what I hold here? This is the Yan family pawnshop register, detailing every item each of you brought to Dunzhou monthly. Written plainly in black and white—you can’t fake this.”
Inside, the merchants whispered, wiped sweat, and jostled, creating a din Fei Sheng couldn’t even hear. Finally, the man leaned out and shouted: “Tea trade isn’t banned anymore! I’m in tea! Open the door, don’t punish the innocent!”
“Zhongbo has fallen into ruin these past two years. Who are you shipping tea to in Dunzhou? Yan is the largest tea merchant going south.” Fei Sheng raised his embroidered spring knife, striking the doorframe for emphasis. “Stop the noise! Confess properly!”
“Confess what?” the man argued stubbornly. “The ledger has everything written; isn’t it clear?”
Fei Sheng waved the ledger: “Once this reaches Qudu and the authorities, no one escapes. Know this: my Master is merciful and offers a chance to make amends. Record honestly on paper who you collaborated with in Dunzhou and who you exchanged silver for, and I’ll open the door immediately. Past accounts will be wiped clean.”
Tea, salt, copper, and iron—except for tea, the latter three were under imperial control. The Xi family operated copper mines in Juexi under imperial decree, reporting monthly to both the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of Works, with inspectors assigned to supervise. Yet the posts were lucrative, and the inspectors, selected by the Ministry of Revenue, often colluded with the Xi family, falsifying accounts to conceal copper and iron. All other flows of copper and iron could be considered collusion between local officials and merchants. These commodities, like military grain, were smuggled for profit.
Yan Heru’s pawnshops and trading halls in Dunzhou served not just as legitimate trade venues, but also to convert local officials’ illicit gains into silver. The Six-Eared Division entering Dunzhou under Shen Zechuan’s command had left instructions incomplete—special signals for entering Dunzhou weren’t just about “following rules.”
After Fei Sheng finished speaking, the hall erupted in chaos again. Merchants banged on the door as different accents clashed. Fei Sheng closed the ledger, picked up freshly brewed tea, and began sipping, enjoying the steam.
Before dinner, Morning Yang instructed the kitchen to prepare fish. Shen Zechuan consequently ate an extra half bowl of rice; the remaining half fish ended up in Xiao Chiye’s stomach. As long as he didn’t fuss over bones, Second Master enjoyed his meal.
After dinner, the two stood beneath the eaves, listening to the merchants next door cursing their ancestors. Xiao Chiye rinsed his mouth, saying: “Isn’t there still that scorpion? Call him now, I have questions.”
Morning Yang went to summon him.
Xiao Chiye turned to Shen Zechuan: “Why haven’t you had Ding Tao follow you lately?”
Shen Zechuan explained: “Lei Jingzhe is in Dunzhou. If Lixiong isn’t watched, he might run off to find him. Ding Tao plays well with him; the two kids being together is perfect.”
Xiao Chiye took a sip of tea, seemingly convinced.
Shen Zechuan tilted his head, revealing faint marks on his neck from Xiao Chiye, making the jade bead appear even whiter. He didn’t continue about Ding Tao but said: “The arm binding broke last time. When we return to Cizhou, we’ll make another.”
Xiao Chiye thought of Hansen at the mention of the arm binding. Gazing at the night, he said, “It can still be repaired and used.”
He never spoke of Hansen. That defeat had silenced him, burying his boasts. Delivering supplies was exhausting, but in Libei everyone suffered—even Lu Yizhi spent days mending old winter coats for the frontlines. Xiao Chiye had been taken in by Xiao Fangxu’s scabbard, yet endured patiently, waiting for the right moment.
“I’ll make you two,” Shen Zechuan said seriously, “and carve my name on them.”
Xiao Chiye lifted his arm, holding Shen Zechuan’s chin, pausing: “Don’t carve the name on the bindings.”
On the battlefield, swords kill indiscriminately. Xiao Chiye did not want Shen Zechuan facing death with his name on the bindings. He wanted a good omen—he wanted Shen Zechuan to live a long life.
Hairegu and Yan Heru had been confined together for two days, starving. Hairegu, still injured, was dragged under the eaves, lips dry, forcing himself to stay conscious.
Xiao Chiye crouched, casting shadow over Hairegu. Gu Jin immediately pressed Hairegu’s head down, parting his hair to reveal the scorpion tattoo on his neck.
“The Gedale Scorpion,” Xiao Chiye said grimly. “Why did you come to Zhongbo?”
Hairegu’s arms were tightly bound. Sliding along the ground, he refused to answer. Gu Jin pressed his throat, forcing him upright toward Xiao Chiye: “Answer.”
Hairegu breathed heavily, glancing at Shen Zechuan by the door. That glance enraged Xiao Chiye; Hairegu’s head was nearly slammed into the floor. Scraping against the cold wood, he struggled.
“I’m not your enemy!” Hairegu could not break free, feeling crushed by iron arms. He strained upward, seeing only Xiao Chiye’s boots. “Help me, Shen—”
Xiao Chiye remained expressionless.
Hairegu struggled for air, scraping his face on the floor, shouting near death: “I still have… so much I haven’t said! Don’t you want to know about the Bai Cha?!”
Xiao Chiye said: “Until you learn to ‘answer,’ we want to know nothing.”
Hairegu’s neck felt the force pressing down. He strained, sweat dripping from his temples: “I… Zhongbo… cough, cough! I was escaping for my life!”
Shen Zechuan’s right fingers twinged slightly as he stepped closer, stopping by Hairegu: “Three days ago, you told me you called me Gedale’s son because Bai Cha divided your group.”
Hairegu swallowed hard, panting: “Yes. Because Bai Cha split us… that’s why you exist.”
Shen Zechuan frowned.
Xiao Chiye suddenly released him. Hairegu gasped, Gu Jin lifting him upright. He, dusty and disheveled, quickly said: “Gedale means ‘light’ in Biansha dialect. That’s the name Bai Cha gave. Your mother’s story is long; if you don’t mind, give me some saliva first. I swear every word I say is true.”