Qin's Moon: Yang Shi's Long Song

The letter was delivered in the afternoon.

The messenger was a passing peddler carrying a load of miscellaneous goods. He stopped to rest at the back door of Zilan Pavilion, casually handing a series of wax-sealed letters to the kitchen helper, saying, "Someone asked me to bring these over; they're for someone surnamed Yang." Then he picked up his load and left. The helper handed the letters to Zi Nu, who glanced at the wax seals, didn't open them, and went straight upstairs.

Yang Hui was in the elegant room reading Han Fei's manuscript from a couple of days ago. Zi Nu pushed open the door, placed the letter on the table, and said, "The sealing wax is from Gui Gu."

Yang Hui put down his manuscript and picked up the letter. The wax seal was dark red, with a mark pressed onto it—not a pattern, but an extremely fine, almost invisible scratch, as if lightly drawn with the tip of a sword while the wax was still wet. That was Gai Nie's mark. He had this habit when he was in Guigu Valley; for every letter he sent, he would draw a horizontal line on the wax seal to indicate "this letter was written by me."

Yang Hui broke the wax seal and pulled out the paper inside. There was only one sheet, folded into three sections, and when unfolded, it contained very little writing. Gai Nie's handwriting, like the man himself, was concise and didn't take up much space.

"Letter received. Arrives in three days. Enter through the North Gate. Do not wait."

Yang Hui read those words twice. Then he folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Zi Nu leaned against the door, watching him take the letter, and asked, "You've arrived?"

"We're almost there. Three more days." He slightly revised his wording. "He said we'd arrive in Xinzheng in three days, entering through the North Gate."

"The North Gate is Ji Wuye's territory."

"He knows."

Zi Nu didn't ask again, "Then how are you going to pick him up?" She simply leaned against the door, looked at Yang Hui for a moment, and then said, "You have three more days."

Three days should be enough.

Zi Nu nodded, turned, and went downstairs. Her footsteps echoed a few times on the stairs before disappearing into the sounds of the first floor. Yang Hui sat alone at his desk, the sky outside the window beginning to set in the west. The setting sun shone through the cracks in the window, casting a thin layer of orange-yellow light on the blank pages. He mentally reviewed the situation: Gai Nie would enter Xinzheng in three days. The North Gate was Ji Wuye's territory, but there was a reason why Gai Nie would choose the North Gate—the most dangerous gate, where no one would be waiting to "capture a Ghost Valley swordsman," because no one would believe he would enter through there. But Yang Hui needed to ensure that he wouldn't be "seen" when he entered through the North Gate.

He stood up, gathered the manuscript from his desk, and went downstairs. He met Han Fei at the corner of the stairs. Han Fei was just coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of noodles when he saw him. Noticing his expression, Han Fei asked, "Did the letter arrive?"

"We've arrived. In three days."

Han Fei, holding his noodles, paused for a moment, as if quickly calculating the time, and then said, "Three days. Enough for you to set up a game of chess. Not enough for me to finish a chapter."

Yang Hui nodded and brushed past him. He walked to the backyard, stood under the old locust tree, and looked up—more leaves had fallen, and the sky visible through the canopy was larger than a few days ago. In three more days, when Gai Nie arrived, the leaves should be almost all gone. He stood under the tree, thinking about what he needed to do in three days: pick him up at the north gate, avoid the undercover agents at night, and safely bring Gai Nie into the Purple Orchid Pavilion. Each step was simple, but each step had to be flawless.

He stood there for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, until a leaf was blown down by the wind and landed on his shoulder. He took it down and placed it on the tree root, then turned and walked back to the side room. When he pushed open the door, he saw Yan Lingji sitting by the window, holding an empty persimmon peel in her hand—the persimmon peel that she had rolled up and put away yesterday. She spread it out flat on the windowsill, as if drying it.

Yang Hui walked over, sat down at the table, and didn't say anything.

Yan Lingji flipped the persimmon peel over, her gaze never leaving the thin, dried-out slice, but she spoke first: "You've had it for three days?"

How did you know?

"You walked a beat faster than before, and your fingers were slightly clenched, as if you were silently counting the days."

Yang Hui glanced at his hands subconsciously. She was right. He loosened his fingers, opened his palm, and said, "My senior brother will arrive in Xinzheng in three days. I need to go to the North Gate to pick him up."

Yan Lingji carefully rolled up the persimmon peel and put it back in her pocket. She stood up, not looking at him, and simply said, "The day you pick someone up, I'll watch the back door for you."

"Your body isn't—"

"I lay in the ice for ten years," she said calmly, not as an argument, but as a statement. "But I could hear the wind. I remember the direction and distance of the wind very clearly."

He looked at her silently for a moment, then said, "Okay. You watch the back door."

Yan Lingji walked to the door, glanced at him, and her lips twitched slightly: "Bring back a persimmon on your way." He nodded and said, "I remember." She turned her face away, stepped over the threshold, and walked into the courtyard.

Yang Hui sat at the table. He counted in his mind: three days. After three days, there would be one more silent person in Xinzheng.

The evening breeze swept through the window, causing the shadows of the trees to ripple like waves.