Chapter 57: Chapter 57

The fourteenth day after Gao Nian of the Golden Dragon Gang fell.

A faint glimmer of dawn.

Inner city, the Shen family’s new home.

“Cluck, cluck, cluck…”

From the freshly-built chicken coop in the corner of the yard came a burst of frantic clucking.

The plump old hen had every feather puffed on end, her millet-bead eyes full of wariness.

Shen Xiuhan, eating the scallion flatcake Madam Zheng had griddle-fried, tore off a small piece of the crust and held it out:

“You want a bit of flatcake?”

“Cluck! Flap-flap-flap!”

The old hen was having none of it. She beat her wings fiercely, letting out the shrill protective cry of a hen guarding her brood — looking every bit as though she were about to go for his eyes.

Shen Xiuhan could only pull his hand back.

It had been several days since they had moved into the inner city.

The small shopfront had been cleaned spotless by Madam Zheng. Three days ago, Shen Xiuhan had gone to a carpenter’s and ordered five sturdy sets of tables and chairs, then to the market to buy a gleaming new set of pots, bowls, ladles, and basins.

By the looks of it, two or three more days of putting things in order and the eatery could open its doors for business.

A pity Shen Xiuhan would not be here to see it.

The day before, the Ji Manor had sent a servant with word: he was to report at early morning to the West Market wharf, and travel with the supply ship to Yunyi Island.

“About time to go…”

Shen Xiuhan wolfed down the last of the flatcake and rose, heading for the east room.

Inside, Madam Zheng had set a packed bundle on the table — plump and stuffed full.

“Dalang, the wind is fierce and the waves high out on the lake. Ma packed you two extra padded jackets, and some dry flatcakes just off the griddle — take them to line your stomach on the way.”

Madam Zheng twisted her fingers in her apron strings, fussing on and on:

“Once you’re on the island, don’t go pushing yourself to the front in everything. Duty is duty, but keeping yourself safe is what matters most…”

“Don’t worry, Ma. Your son understands.”

Shen Xiuhan answered gently, took the bundle and slung it over one shoulder, and instructed:

“Ma, once the Azure Spike Fowl eggs hatch, be sure to chop the herbs I bought, mix them together, and feed them in the right proportion at each meal.”

“I’ve got it all noted down…”

“Gege, when are you coming home? Momo doesn’t want Gege to leave…”

A sudden tightness around his legs — he looked down and found the little girl gazing up at him, her eyes rimmed red, her feet in those red-cloth tiger-head shoes.

Shen Xiuhan crouched down, ruffled the top of her head, and coaxed gently:

“There’s a rest day every month on duty. Momo, help Mama look after the eatery at home, and when I come back, I’ll buy you osmanthus cakes from Zhang’s down south in the city. How’s that?”

“…Deal, pinky-swear!”

The little girl held out her pinky.

“Pinky-swear.”

Having settled his little sister, Shen Xiuhan straightened up and said: “Ma, if you run into trouble, go to Mei Hall and give my name. The senior brothers at the hall will take care of it.”

“All right. Be careful out there…”

…

“Live fish, fresh off the line!”

“Big carp straight out of the water — six wen a piece!”

“Last two spots for Changshui County — full boat pulls out right away!”

West Market.

Hawkers’ cries rang out one after another, mixed with river wind and the reek of fish, blending into one great clamor.

Shen Xiuhan had barely reached the wharf entrance.

Two men in black short-jackets closed in on him at once, looking him up and down:

“Boy, you know the rules?”

Shen Xiuhan’s brow creased slightly.

These were… Raging Waves men?

Before he could speak, a burly man stepped quickly out from beside them. In one motion he shoved his two underlings aside and cupped his fists toward Shen Xiuhan with a pile of smiles:

“Why, it’s Young Master Shen! These green melons under me have no eyes — please forgive them… Young Master, go right on through.”

Shen Xiuhan gave him a glance; the man rang a faint bell of recognition.

When Tang Cheng had come calling a few days before, this man had seemed to be among his followers.

A slight nod — good enough for a greeting — and he walked straight on toward the wharf.

“Boss Chen, who’s that kid? Walking around like he owns the place?”

Once Shen Xiuhan had gone some way, one of the underlings rubbed his sore shoulder, looking put out.

Since wiping out the Golden Dragon Gang, Raging Waves’ clout had surged; they were now all but the undisputed overlord of the outer city.

These past few days, nobody had dared treat them with that kind of cold indifference.

Boss Chen shot him a look and warned:

“That man is a top pupil of Mei Hall — a bona fide Manifest Strength martial artist! You two are new to the gang. From now on, keep your eyes open and don’t bring this old man trouble with people who shouldn’t be crossed!”

Mei Hall!

Manifest Strength martial artist!

The two underlings drew in a sharp breath. Cold sweat broke out; their faces were all dread.

Raging Waves may have looked imposing, but that was only in the face of the powerless, penniless folk of the outer city. Before the martial powers of the inner city, they still had to keep their heads low.

…

Stepping into the wharf.

Shen Xiuhan spotted a wide, flat-bottomed sandship at one of the berths, its mast flying a great “Ji” banner that flapped in the wind.

He approached and produced his waist-token.

A steward came down from the sandship, inspected it, and broke into a warm smile:

“A pleasure to meet you, Patrol Envoy Shen!”

“This small one is Mao San — running supplies to Yunyi Island on the family’s behalf. Patrol Envoy, please board at once; we’ll be weighing anchor in just a moment.”

“Obliged.”

Shen Xiuhan cupped his fists courteously and stepped onto the sandship by way of the slippery gangplank.

A crewman attentively brought out a wooden stool, inviting him to sit and rest.

Once he had settled, several of the older sailors couldn’t help stealing glances at him, heads together in low murmurs.

An envoy this young posted out to the island — that truly was a first.

Before long, Mao San shouted:

“Weigh anchor! Shove off!”

“Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”

Seven or eight brawny oarsmen set up a chant in unison, muscles straining, as they drove the heavy double oars through the water.

The sandship parted the current and pulled away from the clamorous West Market wharf.

Once they entered the main channel, carried along by the downstream current, the oarsmen could take it easier — they only needed to work the sculling oar now and then to hold the course.

Shen Xiuhan turned his head and looked out.

Yunshui Lake — a thousand li of marshland, its waters vast and wide, the far shore beyond sight.

Mist hung over the surface; the lake was full of people making their living on the great water.

Far off, on the deep-water shipping lanes, several large merchant vessels ran heavy with cargo, all sails set, harnessing the wind to plow through the waves;

in the shallows, black-canopied boats, sampans, and bamboo rafts lay scattered in twos and threes.

Bare-chested fishermen, skin burnt dark, stood at the bows and flung their nets into the air — the mesh unfurling like a blooming flower, then striking the water and sending up a curtain of spray.

The river wind was chill. After about two hours of travel, the outline of a solitary island finally rose into view in the distance.

Yunyi Island was not large — head to tail, it stretched perhaps a li across at most. The terrain was mostly flat, rising only at the center into a small hillock.

Near the shore stood rows of stilted wooden buildings, all framed in bamboo and timber, set on thick wooden pilings driven into the ground. Raised above the damp, safe from snakes and vermin — a design of real character.

The sandship put in to shore, and Shen Xiuhan, following Mao San’s directions, headed for the largest pavilion on the island.

Though the bamboo buildings were built close and dense, the island was nearly deserted.

The whole walk there — aside from a dozen or so porters unloading cargo at the wharf — Shen Xiuhan did not see a single soul.

Before long, he reached the high pavilion.

Both wooden doors stood wide open. Before Shen Xiuhan had even drawn close, a smell compounded of rice wine, stale sweat, and the reek of river water came rolling out.

In the hall, four burly men in grey-blue patrol uniforms sat around a table.

Robes pulled open across their chests, faces flushed red from drink, the table littered with pan-fried fish and raw peanuts, they were bawling out the finger-guessing game over their cups.

At the sound of footsteps at the door, the clamor inside cut off at once; heads turned as one.

Four gazes snapped toward him.

Seeing Shen Xiuhan — back straight, eyes bright, with a faint but unmistakable air of a trained fighter — the four understood at once.

The man sitting on the outside, with a genial face, braced himself on the table’s edge and rose, cracking a grin:

“You’d be the new patrol guard brother the family just posted to the island? Third floor, turn left — go to the biggest room and report to the garrison commander.”

“Thank you for the directions.”

Shen Xiuhan cupped his fists and followed the creaking staircase upward.

Listening to the footsteps rising overhead, the four men drew closer together, voices low.

“This must be the replacement for Old Reckless’s squad, right?”

“Most likely.”

“Lu Ya’s always been rash in the way he handles things. The other day, for the sake of a waterway, he insisted on going head-to-head with Chenjian Wu’s Tenth Chief. Lost three good men for it. Word is the family rounded up some clean-background commoner sons overnight to ship to the island and plug the holes.”

The genial-faced man from before tossed a peanut into his mouth and shook his head with a sigh:

“That young brother looked quite young. Assigned under Lu Ya’s command… what a waste.”

“Bah! The Dao-friend dies, not the poor Daoist — what’re you fretting over someone else’s bad luck for?”

“You’ve got a point. Come on, come on — drink up, drink up!”