A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 10
by Little PandaThe Mistaken Notice
Fighting a tiger? No, that’s Wu Song’s job!
Not long after, she saw five or six men dressed in bailiff uniforms1 walking toward the Yamen, swords at their waists, strutting with authority. Each one cut an impressive figure, and Shen Hetang watched with undisguised envy. She thought of her old police squad—the one she had never worked a single day for—and a pang of regret surfaced. Though by now, she supposed she could count as a martyr.
With that in mind, her desire for a Yamen job only grew stronger. She decided to stake out the area—if no opportunity came, she would make one herself.
Her patience was rewarded. On the third day of her vigil, she finally saw the Yamen post an official notice. She saw only the words “recruiting capable people” and tore it down at once—only to look below and nearly faint on the spot. The large characters beneath read: recruiting tiger-fighting hero.
This—this was bad. Her hand had been too quick. That was Wu Song’s work, not hers! She seemed to be fated to clash with this place2. Blowing herself up with explosives was already crazy enough, and now they wanted her to fight a tiger? If she went, she would be nothing more than takeout delivered to a tiger cub. No, no, no—she could not go.
Just as she tried to paste the notice back up, an advisor in his forties emerged from the Yamen. Seeing someone had torn down the notice, he scurried over like a man who had spotted a trap and was eager for someone else to spring it. He grabbed Shen Hetang and would not let go, his face practically screaming, “I have a trap here—hurry up and jump in!”
“May I ask your age, little brother?” The advisor bared eight teeth in a benevolent smile, eyeing Shen Hetang with evident satisfaction.
“This one is nineteen, born in the Year of the Dragon, surname Shen.” She gave her name while trying to pull free—though the age, of course, was fabricated. Judging by her face, she couldn’t be more than twenty.
“And this notice—you tore it down?”
“No, no, it fell down on its own, I just happened to pick it up. I’ll paste it back right now.” She tried to press the paper against the wall, but it wouldn’t stick. She turned back to the advisor with an awkward smile.
“Little brother, since fate has spoken, you should accept this great responsibility and come meet the magistrate with me.” The advisor clearly knew his trade—was he running some kind of fortune-teller’s scam now?
“Ah…” Shen Hetang was stuck—literally and figuratively.
“This old man has read your face. A young master so refined and handsome, yet with such an imposing air—you are clearly no ordinary person. No need to be modest, come along with me.” The advisor began dragging her toward the Yamen.
The white tiger on the mountain outside the city had already injured five people near the city gates, three of them fatally. No one dared to enter or leave. In half a month, the Imperial Inspector3 appointed by the court would arrive in their town, and the County Magistrate was so anxious his eyebrows might catch fire. Yet not a single hero had stepped forward to lead the hunt. The magistrate had been tearing into the advisor daily, and the advisor—out of options—had simply grabbed the first unlucky fool who had torn down the notice. Better to drag someone back and hope for the best4.
The Yamen’s bailiffs looked impressive enough in daily routines, but eight out of ten were nepotism hires—either the County Magistrate’s concubine’s younger brother or the old lady’s godson. When real work needed doing, every last one of them hid away, and not a single one dared to step forward. The magistrate had seen through them long ago, which was why he had pinned all his hopes on a handsome reward.
“My lord, my lord! A hero has answered the notice!” The advisor’s voice reached the room before he did.
“Where? Bring him in quickly.” The magistrate’s tone carried the desperate relief of a withered tree meeting spring5.
Shen Hetang listened to their exchange with mounting pressure. She just wanted a job—not another brush with death.
“Is this the hero you spoke of?” The magistrate’s face fell when he saw Shen Hetang, wilting like a frost-bitten eggplant.
“My lord, we are short on time. This young master looks like a man of ability—why not let him try? We don’t have much time left. This little brother can at least serve as a leader.” The advisor shot meaningful glances at the magistrate.
Shen Hetang thought: You certainly know how to read people—you can tell I have ability at a glance? More like you want to use me as tiger bait.
“Young brother, do you possess any special skills?” Helplessly, the magistrate looked at her with a sliver of hope.
“This humble one has no special skills, but knows some martial arts.” The old man’s eyes dimmed at the first half of her answer, then brightened again when she finished.
“You see, my lord, I told you this little brother has the look of a noble—surely he is capable.” The advisor quickly added his own mortar to the wall—this burning potato had to be tossed out fast, or his old bones wouldn’t survive the strain.
“No, wait—my lord, this humble one cannot accept this tiger-hunting task. You should find another hero.” But they would not give her a chance to argue.
“Whether you can or cannot, we will only know after testing. Besides, we won’t send you alone. How many men do you need?” They just needed a leader.
Shen Hetang’s face remained calm, but she could feel sweat beading on her forehead. She was not cut out for government work—every time she tried, the fates clashed against her. Her bad luck was confirmed.
Footnotes
- Bàkuài — historical constables or bailiffs serving under a local magistrate, responsible for law enforcement, arrests, and court security.
- 'Eight characters clash' (bāzì xiāngkè) — a Chinese astrological concept meaning one's fate is fundamentally incompatible with a place or situation, as if one's birth data conflicts with local fortune.
- Xún'ān shǐ — an official inspector sent by the imperial court to investigate and evaluate local officials. Their arrival was often dreaded by corrupt or incompetent magistrates, as they held the power to recommend promotions or expose misconduct.
- 'Treat a dead horse as a living one' (sǐ mǎ dāng huó mǎ yī) — an idiom meaning to try something hopeless because there is no better alternative; a last-ditch effort when all else has failed.
- 'Withered tree meets spring' (kū mù féng chūn) — a chengyu meaning to find unexpected hope or renewal in a desperate situation, like a dead tree suddenly sprouting when spring arrives.
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