Chapter 61 — Fingerprints and Seals
The young women who had just been sent from the Cao mansion had been at the Bai residence for less than half a day before another carriage came and took them all away.
Master Bai Jiu had ordered them to be sent far away, so Steward Sun Fu obediently found the most distant small house and settled them there. The women ended up in Jingshui Alley, three to five alleys diagonally from Cao Yunzhao’s small mansion—neither very far nor very close. Whenever they stepped outside, the direction facing them led straight toward the Cao mansion. At least they were settled for the moment.
Cao Yunzhao had called twice, the last time from Tianjin City. His voice sounded exhausted, almost like leaving a charge behind, and he said many words: “Bai Rongjiu, I admit I didn’t inform you beforehand, but I didn’t expect it would cause such a commotion…”
Lord Bai Jiu asked, “When will you be back?”
“Not anytime soon. My family intends to send me abroad, and the return date is uncertain. The old man at home has a terrible temper and poor health—I don’t want to anger him.” Cao Yunzhao sighed. “I also need your help to keep an eye on them. If anyone wants to leave, just give them some silver and let them go.”
Lord Bai Jiu asked in return, “Aren’t you worried that by the time you come back, they’ll all be gone?”
Cao Yunzhao chuckled. “If they leave, that’s fine. I never planned to hold them here—I’ll let them go.”
Cao Yunzhao didn’t lack money. The people he sent simply couldn’t be accommodated at home. After the call, he had the mansion’s steward send money twice, enough for these people to live comfortably for years.
The East Courtyard returned to its usual calm.
Xie Jing continued his daily routine of two soups: sweet soup in the morning and beef bone soup in the evening. After eating, he either followed Lord Bai Jiu on his walks or went to train with the guards. Wang Chunjiang had been brought to the East Courtyard and spent fixed periods every day instructing Xie Jing without slacking.
Xie Jing shifted his martial arts training to midday, practicing while Lord Bai Jiu napped. At other times, he stayed close to Lord Bai Jiu. On days off, he also went to Wang Chunjiang’s martial arts school for practical sparring. Unlike the guards’ rough style, the school followed proper lineage. Xie Jing picked only the useful techniques, not caring about beautiful, complete forms—he learned single moves to subdue enemies and catch them off guard.
Wang Chunjiang had agreed with the Bai family not to reveal Xie Jing’s identity, claiming he was a distant relative learning for a couple of days.
Xie Jing was learning Wang Chunjiang’s specialty, the soft whip, and after a few months, he wielded it like a veteran, so no one suspected anything.
As they spent more time together, Xie Jing and Wang Chunjiang became friendly. Wang Chunjiang invited him for tea and snacks; Xie Jing reciprocated by inviting him to his small family restaurant.
The sign still hung outside. It was late summer, and the bamboo curtains at the entrance hung lazily, fluttering at the corners with the wind.
Xie Jing brought Wang Chunjiang inside, had him sit down, and personally brewed a pot of herbal tea, pouring him a cup: “This is cooling tea sent from the south. The taste is a bit unusual, but it relieves summer heat, clears dryness, and detoxifies. Try some, Uncle Wang.”
Wang Chunjiang sipped and chuckled. “I once had this when I went to Lingnan. Still the same taste.”
Xie Jing said, “If you like it, you can take some home.”
Wang Chunjiang shook his head and set down the cup. “I’m an old loner. Taking it home is useless. I usually eat out. At most, I’ll brew some jasmine tea. This cooling tea requires boiling a large bundle of herbs—I don’t have the patience.”
“If you don’t mind, you’re welcome to come eat at our house more often. My grandmother cooks well—you can try some soon.”
As Xie Jing spoke, the bamboo curtain at the door was suddenly flung aside. The person entering was rough, kicking the wooden door open, spitting on the floor, and loudly demanding: “Shopkeeper! Come out and talk to me!”
Xie Jing, wanting to entertain Wang Chunjiang, had sent Li Yuan to help Grandmother Kou in the kitchen. Only he was at the front and stepped forward: “That’s me. What do you need?”
Seven or eight men came in, all looking like trouble. The one at the front had shoulder-length hair, a slanted gaze, and two iron balls spinning in his hands. The others flanked him, forming an imposing line. The man with the iron balls glanced at Xie Jing: “You’re the shopkeeper? You look young. Can you handle this?”
Xie Jing nodded. “I can.”
The man’s smile was forced. “Perfect. I’m here for the matter from a few months ago—when you injured one of my men!” He called out a man behind him wearing a semi-new silk shirt. “Huang Laizi, see clearly. This shop kicked you out, didn’t feed you, and even stole your silver?”
Huang Laizi bowed and then, seeing a few customers inside, pointed with certainty: “It’s this shop!” He didn’t know these people, but the shop wasn’t going anywhere.
Six months ago, Huang Laizi had tried to dine here without paying. After eating a wild rabbit, he lost ten silver coins and was beaten in an alley by some strong men. He had been waiting for a chance to retaliate. He joined a small gang and came today to claim his due. He had scoped the shop—today’s staff was new, and the young shopkeeper looked easy to bully.
Last time was unfortunate—some drunk strongmen were in the shop. Today was different: the small restaurant was empty except for an old man and a teenage boy—perfect targets.
Xie Jing observed them and remarked: “You’re gangsters.”
The front man snorted through his nose, pretending disdain.
Huang Laizi, quick-witted, stepped forward, hands on his hips: “Of course! You heard of the Black Tiger Gang? South Qinglong, North Black Tiger. Just saying it scares you. Not just this little shop—this street belongs to us. When our boss says something, you won’t make a day’s business!”
Xie Jing nodded, “Got it.” Then he stood, walked past them, and closed the wooden door.
The gangsters froze. Huang Laizi felt a sudden bad premonition but couldn’t escape. The front man raised a brow: “Why close the door?”
“Don’t want outsiders seeing,” Xie Jing said honestly. “We’re a small business; we still have to make a living.”
The front man laughed but before he could finish, Xie Jing punched him in the face.
Xie Jing’s strikes were precise and forceful. With the martial arts teacher nearby as support, he used these men as practice dummies. Every punch landed; if the target was sturdy, he twisted joints. To outsiders, it looked like a light push, but the men’s faces turned pale, cold sweat dripped, and they rolled on the ground screaming in pain.
No one outside saw anything.
The men inside couldn’t escape.
The leader, bloodied and humiliated, tried to flee but Xie Jing’s whip wrapped around his ankle, yanking him to the floor and breaking teeth. Defeated, he begged for mercy.
Xie Jing calmly said, “I don’t want your life. Get up and sweep the floor.”
The restaurant’s bench and tableware were damaged, some bowls smashed on the men’s heads. Despite the injuries, they had to clean the shards while holding their foreheads, careful not to dirty the floor again.
Xie Jing’s strikes only hurt the surface; the wounds would heal in days.
Once the floor was cleaned, the gangsters were released.
Wang Chunjiang examined Xie Jing’s wrist. “Good whip work. You’re still young and small; use technique, not strength, targeting wrists, ankles, necks.”
Xie Jing nodded. He also noticed his wrist had more strength than usual. Yesterday, when hunting with Zhang Huwei, using the gun was less strenuous. His wrist power made climbing trees faster and easier.
Xie Jing worried about scaring Grandmother Kou, but she was calmer than expected. She served dishes, checked he wasn’t hurt, and let him continue dining with Master Wang.
For lunch, they had noodles with seven or eight side dishes. Xie Jing served, ate with them, and asked: “Uncle Wang, are the masters at the martial arts school busy? I want to hire two to watch the house. You saw today—my household is only one old, one young. Without me, they would have been scared.”
Wang Chunjiang thought for a moment: “Two have good skills; I’ll introduce them.”
“Thank you.”
Wang Chunjiang quickly arranged two martial arts masters for eight silver per month each to guard the house. Xie Jing thought it was worth it for peace of mind.
After the dog days, the autumn heat remained intense. Lord Bai Jiu ate less in summer. The small kitchen worried, but much of the food returned untouched.
Xie Jing asked for some gluten from the kitchen. The master didn’t have any, so he made some fresh and gave it to him. Xie Jing wrapped it in a handkerchief, took a bamboo pole, and climbed a tree.
At noon, Lord Bai Jiu returned to the East Courtyard with Bai Mingyu following closely. Lord Bai Jiu stopped under a tree, squinted, and said: “Come down.”
Xie Jing jumped down, sweaty and flushed, holding a stick with cicadas attached. Lord Bai Jiu told him to drink some iced mung bean soup and avoid climbing high in the heat.
Bai Mingyu made a face at Xie Jing. Lord Bai Jiu noticed and scolded him: “Behave. Come report the monthly accounts.”
Xie Jing handed the bamboo pole and drank soup.
In the study, Bai Mingyu worked efficiently. Lord Bai Jiu, fair in rewards and punishments, praised him. Bai Mingyu felt embarrassed, acknowledging it wasn’t just him but also Xie Jing’s diligence.
Outside, the courtyard was calm; summer cicadas nearly silent.
Xie Jing drank two bowls of iced mung bean soup, then carried one into the study.
Bai Mingyu passed him; he whispered about the border distillery issue and asked Xie Jing to come to his room at night.
Xie Jing nodded but was called by Lord Bai Jiu. He whispered, “I’ll come after lights out,” and went in.
He placed the soup down, looked up, meeting Lord Bai Jiu’s gaze. Quietly, he asked: “Lord, do you want some mung bean and lily?”
Lord Bai Jiu took his hand instead, noticing a thin callus on Xie Jing’s finger. He asked: “Tired lately? In a few days, I’ll take you to the mountains for two days.”
Xie Jing shook his head. “Not tired. I sleep well every day.”
Lord Bai Jiu chuckled, lightly tapping his forehead: “Silly boy. I didn’t take you to the mountains for sleep. Consider it a reward.”
“A reward?”
“Yes, for being obedient these past few days.”
In the afternoon, Lord Bai Jiu stayed in, letting Xie Jing grind ink. Rarely inspired, he painted a meticulous figure. The figure’s identity was unclear, partly obscured by banana leaves.
The final touch stalled; Lord Bai Jiu’s brush hovered.
Curious, Xie Jing peeked but couldn’t tell. Lord Bai Jiu set the painting aside to dry and told him to store it in the top shelf of the glass cabinet.
It was Xie Jing’s first time seeing Lord Bai Jiu leave a work unfinished. While grinding ink, Xie Jing accidentally left a partial thumbprint on it and panicked. He brought it to Lord Bai Jiu: “Lord, it was unintentional. What should I do?”
Lord Bai Jiu smiled: “Leave it like that. Put it in the east section of the cabinet.”
The east section held completed calligraphy and ink paintings, all stamped. This painting, mostly blank, had a small smudge from Xie Jing. He placed it there, feeling a fleeting sensation in his chest, then nothing. His heartbeat raced slightly, needing a hand to steady it.
A few days later, trouble arose in Jingshui Alley.
Someone leaked the news: a few beauties were living in a small house there. Rogues circled the property, and some even climbed the walls at night to peek.
These women were from the Cao mansion. Lord Bai Jiu, though not seeing them, had to report to Cao Yunzhao. He sent the guards to patrol.
That day, they caught someone trying to climb the wall and disciplined him.
During guard duty, they gathered in the tea room. Xie Jing overheard: “Jingshui Alley’s trouble again?”
“Yes!” a guard said. “Patrolling there’s no joke. The people sent by the Cao family are formidable. One is said to be from the Eight Alleys, plays the pipa—” He glanced at Xie Jing: “Don’t worry if you don’t know. In a few years, you’ll understand. She’s the top, the strongest, backbone of that place…”
Another guard interrupted: “Don’t mislead him. She’s just a girl, not a bandit! Listen, little Xie—there’s a big group of girls in one yard. She runs it, but the real boss is the mom. Like our steward Sun Fu in the East Courtyard!”
Most agreed.
Xie Jing felt something was off but didn’t argue.
He asked about the pipa player: “What happened?”
“She fought with another girl! You wouldn’t believe it—blood everywhere!”
“She hurt someone?”
“No, she scratched herself with a hairpin on her neck. If she had more strength, it could have been fatal.”
Xie Jing was surprised. “Why fight?”
“Not clear. Both won’t say. Acting like they want to die. If it were worse, we’d have to report to Lord Bai Jiu again. I dread going there.”
Xie Jing thought briefly and said: “I’ll go with you. I learned bandaging from Doctor Lin, might be of some help.”
