Qin's Moon: Yang Shi's Long Song

Zi Nu's way of doing things is different from others.

Before doing something, others would think about "what will happen after it's done," but she didn't. She prepared the tools in advance and put them there so that she could reach out and grab them when needed. On the fourth day of Yang Huisheng's stay at Zilan Pavilion, he discovered that Zi Nu had already done three things without his knowledge.

The first incident occurred on a rainy evening. An elderly woman wearing a gray apron and a dark blue headscarf entered through the back door of Zilan Pavilion carrying a basket of vegetables. She placed the vegetables on the stove, exchanged a few words with the kitchen helper, and then left through the back door. As the old woman left, Zi Nu was standing at the top of the stairs in the main hall, wiping the spout of a copper kettle with a dry cloth. As the old woman passed by, she didn't stop, but her hand moved slightly under her apron—as if she were slipping something into Zi Nu's sleeve. Zi Nu didn't stop wiping the kettle either. After finishing, she put the kettle back on the shelf, turned, and went upstairs.

An hour later, Zi Nu poured two cups of tea in the elegant room upstairs, one for herself and the other pushed towards Yang Huisheng. Yang Huisheng sat on the other side of the table—Han Fei hadn't come tonight, and the second floor was quiet, with only the candlelight flickering occasionally.

"Granny Feng from the General's mansion's kitchen," Zi Nu said, holding her teacup. "Her son works as a cook at the North City Camp. Ji Wuye goes to the camp twice a month, and Granny Feng's son can bring out tokens from the General's mansion and give them to Granny Feng. Granny Feng then makes the tokens into dish samples—a few specific dishes—and sends them to a specific courtyard, so the camp receives the message."

Yang Huisheng asked, "What does the token look like?"

"Carved radishes. Carved into peonies, it means 'All is well'; carved into chrysanthemums, it means 'Extreme alert'; carved into lotus flowers, it means—'Something has happened, report immediately.'"

"Does she know who you are?"

"She didn't know about Zilan Pavilion; she only knew that 'someone would come to collect the vegetables.' She had never seen me before."

Yang Huisheng looked at Zi Nu. Zi Nu picked up her teacup, took a sip, and continued, "The second one is a servant in the royal stables, surnamed Zhao, seventeen years old, who has been feeding horses for three years. Every evening, he leads his horse out of the palace to drink at the West City River. When he passes an old willow tree, he stops to tie his shoelaces. If the shoelaces are tied properly, he continues leading the horse; if they come undone, he squats down to re-tie them—and while squatting down, he puts something in a hollow in the tree."

"Put what in?"

"He let in everything. Fragments he'd overheard from an unfavored concubine in the former palace, who King Han met yesterday, which minister was scolded by the king, which nobleman's horse was shortchanged on hay today. They all seemed like worthless gossip. But when you put the gossip together, it forms a whole picture."

Yang Huisheng nodded. "The third one?"

"The city gate's night watchman is surnamed Liu," Zi Nu said. "I haven't gotten close to him yet. But he's the one I want most. Eyes on the city wall are more valuable than anything. Only he can open the city gate at midnight, or make sure it's closed tighter."

Yang Huisheng was silent for a moment, then said, "These stakes are easy to bury. But difficult to pull them out when you need them."

Zi Nu placed the teacup on the table and looked at him. "Don't pull it up once it's buried."

"How long do you plan to keep them down there?"

"Stay as long as you can," Zi Nu said. "Feng Po's son might not be in the camp anymore next year, and the servant surnamed Zhao might be transferred to another stable next month. There's no guarantee of success with the stakes; there's only a chance. When the opportunity comes, use it as it comes. If the stakes are still there after use, continue using them. If the stakes are ruined after use, then find new ones."

Yang Huisheng thought for a moment and said, "Does Granny Feng's son know that his mother is sending messages outside?"

Zi Nu paused for a moment. "I don't know."

"After the things you had your mother deliver reach him, will he even glance at them himself?"

"Won't."

How can you be so sure?

Zi Nu swirled her teacup, as if searching for the right words. "Because he is illiterate."

Yang Huisheng remained silent for a moment. Then he said nothing.

Zi Nu stood up and cleared the empty teacup from the table. "I'll continue laying the groundwork. You handle your business, I'll handle mine. You don't need to know who everyone is, where they are, or what they do. You only need to know—when you need the city gates to open a crack at night, someone can open them."

As she reached the door, Yang Huisheng said, "You don't need to get a ride yourself to that squad leader surnamed Liu."

Zi Nu stopped and turned to the side. "What do you mean?"

"let me."

Zi Nu looked at him, as if judging whether he was serious or just saying it casually. Then she said, "You don't know anyone in Xinzheng."

"I know Han Fei."

"Did Han Fei know a squad leader surnamed Liu?"

"Han Fei knew the younger brother of a squad leader surnamed Liu—an old fishmonger who had a stall at the vegetable market in the west of the city. Han Fei told me about this man, saying that his brother particularly liked to chat with people when he was selling fish, talking about everything."

Zi Nu stood there, looking at Yang Huisheng. After a moment, she said, "When did you talk to Han Fei about the old fishmonger?"

"The night before last, he had been drinking, and I said I wanted to know the changing of the guard at the gates of Xinzheng, so he started talking. He talked for half the night."

Zi Nu was silent for a moment, then said, "Do you two exchange things down there that I don't know about every day?"

Yang Huisheng didn't answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched—the same "not a smile, but like a smile" movement as Yan Lingji's. Zi Nu glanced at him but didn't press the matter. She walked out of the elegant room, and before the door closed, her voice drifted through the crack: "Next time you two are exchanging information downstairs, call me."

The door closed.

Yang Huisheng sat at the table, picked up the cup of tea that had gone cold, and took a sip. He looked at the bamboo shadows cast by the candlelight on the wall; Zi Nu hadn't opened the window—there was no moon outside tonight. He put the cup down, leaned back in his chair, and thought for a while.

Zi Nu's method of laying spies was a practical application of the "Espionage" chapter in Sun Tzu's *The Art of War*. She might not even have actually read the book—she had simply lived in this chaotic world for so long that she had developed this skill herself. Yang Huisheng had studied *The Art of War* at Guigu, but that was in the mountains. Zi Nu's skill was something she had learned on the ground. It was different. He thought for a moment, then stood up and picked up the sketch he had casually drawn of the garrison rotation at the city gates of Xinzheng. There were four city gates in total. The east and south gates were the least guarded. The west gate was outside a river, and water transport continued at night, so guards had to be stationed there. The north gate was Ji Wuye's main exit from the city. He was still waiting for Han Fei's next drunken rant—what the night watchman's name was, what the rotation schedule was—to know.

He blew out the candle on the table. Then he closed his eyes for a moment. In the darkness, he went over the paths of the three hidden threads in his mind again: Granny Feng's vegetables, the old willow tree of the servant surnamed Zhao, and the city gate sergeant who hadn't yet been connected. He wanted to plant the fourth hidden thread before Gai Nie arrived. Then he could wait for Gai Nie in peace.

He opened his eyes. The night outside the window in Xinzheng was calm and heavy. Where lights flickered, there were hidden clues leading to a letter on a certain table. And the name on that letter might be someone's path to life or death tomorrow.

He thought about it in the dark, then extinguished the candle.