Poetry Chants, Saber Howls – Chapter 27
by Little PandaTen Years of Flowing Water, a Return to the Old City; A Bright-Moon Night, Into New Lodgings (Part 4)
A physician stood right there in front of her.
Ling Suihan glanced at the woman beside her — but Xie Yuanjue said not a word, only lifted her gaze to the poplar tree and studied it a moment, as if turning something over in her mind. By then the young dandy off to one side had already turned away, meaning to head home into the ward. The sun was sinking, the sky gone vast and dim, and the deep booming of the closing drum still rolled between heaven and earth. Suddenly a voice came drifting over, unhurried as a clear spring trickling down from a mountaintop, open and bright and easy on the ear:
“The statutes are on record: these days every street in Chang’an strictly forbids shooting birds with slingshots — yet nothing forbids climbing a tree. So in this matter, she’s done no wrong. You have. Don’t imagine you can shrug the blame off.”
The voice had come out of nowhere; it startled not only him but Ling Suihan and Xie Yuanjue as well, and they turned toward it — there, beyond the ward wall to the southeast, stood yet another woman. Ling Suihan and Xie Yuanjue carried internal energy; their five senses were keener than ordinary folk’s by who knew how much, yet neither had sensed this person’s arrival in the slightest.
The dandy’s attention ran on other rails than theirs. One look at the woman’s face and he spat: “What an ill-omened day! Two uglies in a row!”
To tell it straight, the woman’s looks were not ugly — but they were certainly nothing anyone would call beautiful. Plain. Ordinary. A plain, ordinary face not worth a second word.
Yet down her right cheek ran a long knife scar, from the corner of her eye to her chin, raw and vicious as some twisted serpent — shocking to behold.
Who could have been cruel enough to ruin a face so? Anyone with a grain of fellow feeling would have felt a pang of pity at the sight, yet the man went and spat out words steeped in malice. Ling Suihan couldn’t stomach it and was on the very point of letting her temper loose — when, to her surprise, the woman heard him out and, far from taking offense, began to laugh.
She was leaning against the wall with her arms folded, the very picture of indolence. Now she raised her brows and smiled, and it was like a breath of wind beneath a warm sun, opening something wide in the chest. “Beauty and ugliness aren’t the same as good and evil. Good and evil have clear standards: murder a man for his purse, that’s evil; steady the stumbling and aid the stranded, that’s good. But beauty has never had a standard — every pair of eyes judges it differently. My luck today has been excellent. True, I did cross paths with a hideous thing as rare as one in ten thousand, and that put me out of humor—”
Here her gaze traveled over the dandy, sizing him up. He blinked, nonplussed — being rather pleased with his own looks, handsome and regular as he believed them, it simply hadn’t occurred to him that the “hideous thing” in her mouth meant him. By then she was already strolling forward, and in a few unhurried steps she came to stand beside the woman, still smiling as she faced him.
“—but since at the very same time I also met the beauty of my heart’s eye, and my humor mended itself accordingly, I find I don’t much mind that you dirtied my eyes just now.”
“What monstrous daring! How dare you curse me?!” At that the dandy came back to himself and finally flew into a rage. The last stroke of the closing drum chose that instant to die away, and heaven and earth went abruptly still — but he no longer cared about hurrying home. His right fist rose, and he meant to bring it down on her.
In almost the same breath, Ling Suihan’s left hand found her saber’s hilt. This time she didn’t draw the blade — didn’t so much as borrow a single technique from the Avici Saber — and so Xie Yuanjue made no move to stop her. A black streak flashed; she merely lifted her left hand with effortless ease, and the scabbard swept home against the dandy’s body in the space of a blink. The wrenching pain wrung an “Aiyo!” out of him, and he pitched forward, flat on his face, onto the ground.
When he groaned and lifted his head again, the skin of that face was scraped raw and dotted with blood, hideous beyond words.
“She doesn’t care to mind. I’m not blessed with such a temper. Not only is your face ugly enough to have dirtied my eyes — your voice is foul enough to have dirtied my ears.” Ling Suihan wouldn’t grant him a straight look, her voice cold and hard. “You could curse a stranger freely over it just now. So by the same token, I’ve struck you for it — and I trust you’ll agree that’s only fair and proper?”
“You… you…” The dandy clutched his bleeding face, rage and agony choking the words in his throat. Then a ripple of laughter reached him — the scarred woman had given up holding back her smile. And the commoner woman still sitting on the ground seemed to come out of her daze; her gaze traveled slowly over each of them, and little by little, despite herself, her own face eased open.
Xie Yuanjue had kept her composure from start to finish, but at this sight the frost across her features softened somewhat, a faint glimmer of amusement surfacing in her eyes.
Only Chang Ping couldn’t smile at all. She sighed instead.
For she had already caught sight of some ten-odd Golden Feather Guards marching their way. Sure enough, moments later the patrol reached them, and without any preamble came a round of scolding: “What are you all clustered here for? Don’t you know the curfew’s been called? Still daring to violate the curfew and go wandering the streets?”
“Honored officers, pray hear me out.” Chang Ping bowed to them at once, her manner respectful to the point of humility, and recounted the whole affair — omitting only the part where Ling Suihan had knocked the man flat. In her telling, when he’d tried to hurt them, they had dodged him, and he, unable to check his own momentum, had toppled over all by himself.
“You… you’re talking nonsense!” Still clutching his face, the man ignored the pain and blurted out the truth in a hurry, begging Lord Clear Sky1 to uphold justice for him.
“Honored officers, you’ll want to examine this down to the last hair. Just look at my friend here — she’s not quite whole in body. Where would she find the strength to floor a great grown man?” Chang Ping kept her head bent, humbling herself before the guards, and as she spoke she quietly pressed a small string of coins from her purse into an officer’s hand — and so never noticed Ling Suihan’s brow crease at those words, or how she hesitated on the verge of speech and swallowed it back down.
“Fine. Whatever quarrel you’re all in, it’s none of my business. The curfew’s in force — home with you, now. If I catch sight of you on the streets again, you can go collect your punishment of your own accord!”
The Golden Feather Guard weighed the coins in his palm, gave them a few more admonitions, and turned away.
Only then did Chang Ping breathe out.
The dandy, by now both alarmed and afraid of these women, had no choice but to clutch his face and slink off, tail between his legs, to his home in Tongnan Ward not far away.
Xie Yuanjue had taken the whole exchange in, and doubt drifted across her eyes. “So anyone who violates the curfew escapes punishment — so long as they pay?”
“We only stopped in the street because of an accident on the way,” said Chang Ping. “It’s no great matter to ask them to bend a little for that. But if someone’s wandering the streets for no reason at all in the dead of night — well, that’s another story, and it won’t end sweetly.”
“Since the cause warranted it, then suiting measures to circumstances and bending with the situation is only reasonable,” said Xie Yuanjue. “But to use that latitude for private gain — where does that leave the law of Great Chong?”
Of everyone present, she alone found it strange; to the rest, such things were common as air. Chang Ping laughed despite herself. “It’s not as if you’re surnamed… ah, wait — you really are surnamed Xie. Well, you’re still no kin of the Xie imperial house of Great Chong. Why fret over Great Chong’s laws just now? Better to fret over our affairs here.” She broke off and turned to the woman still sitting on the ground. “Where’s your home? Can you truly not walk yet?”
The scarred woman crouched down in front of her. “What were you doing up that tree just now?”
“I…” The woman hesitated a moment, then explained that she wasn’t from Chang’an — she’d come to the capital to visit relatives, only to find they’d moved house. She’d searched all day without finding their new home, and had meant to take a room at an inn before the closing drum finished — when, partway there, she’d found a fledgling bird beneath a poplar. “This is the bird.”
She drew the little thing out of the pouch at her waist. It was scarcely a month old by the look of it, feathers not yet grown in, as rough and homely as her own face, wings beating uselessly against her palm, unable to fly.
The scarred woman started, and murmured, “A crow…”
“Is it? It’s so small — I can’t tell what bird it is. It just looked so pitiful there on the ground. I meant to put it back in its nest, but the moment I climbed up, a pellet struck my ankle out of nowhere, and that’s how… I had it on me the whole way down. I don’t know if the little thing’s been hurt.”
She bowed her head, eyes lowered to the fledgling in her palm, and her face was full of worry indeed.
Worry over whether it would live or die.
“I am a physician.” Xie Yuanjue spoke at last. She stepped forward, took the fledgling from the woman’s hand, and studied it a moment. “If you’ve nowhere to lodge tonight, come along with us — I can treat your hurts into the bargain. Gentleman Chang, that residence of yours — room for one more?”
“Of course. The place is huge; a few more people are no trouble at all.”
The woman thanked her again and again, then asked her benefactors’ names.
“My surname is Xie, my given name Yuanjue — Yuan as in destiny’s bonds, Jue as in awakening.” Xie Yuanjue gave her name with the same full formality as ever, all while studying the woman’s face — and suddenly noticed that her pupils were paler than most, amber eyes extraordinarily limpid beneath the moon as it climbed. She asked, curious, “And your honored name, Lady?”
“My surname is Yin,” the woman said softly. “A single character for my given name — Teng2.”
Chang Ping eyed the deepening blue of the night, her anxiety growing. “Names can wait till we’re on the road. If we don’t get back now, there’ll be another patrol along presently.”
With Xie Yuanjue cradling the fledgling in both hands and Chang Ping needed to lead the way, it fell to Ling Suihan and the scarred woman to help Yin Teng to her feet, and they pressed on. By then not another soul could be seen along the long street; Chang’an, seething and loud by day, always turned solemnly quiet after dark. In the cold, clean moonlight, Yin Teng and Ling Suihan found their eyes drawn, as if by one accord, to the long scar on the face of the woman to their right — and it was Ling Suihan who gave in first.
“Where do you live? Aren’t you going home?”
“My place isn’t far from here either. Let me see Lady Yin settled first.”
“Thank you — for what you did just now.” Yin Teng had finally found her voice.
“What did I do just now? I only spoke a couple of sentences of plain truth — does that call for thanks?” She waved it off with a smile, and pointed at Ling Suihan instead. “Better save your thanks for this lady. Your saber work is superb — shouldn’t I have heard your name in the jianghu before?”
“Ling Suihan. Heard of it?”
The woman shook her head with perfect honesty, then smiled. “But not long now, I believe, before you make your name in Chang’an.”
“And you? What’s your name?”
“I… Chongming3. Just call me Chongming.”
As they talked, Chang Ping rounded a corner and led them into Wuri Ward. Mercifully, the Wuri Ward Head knew Chang Ping well; a few soft words from the broker, and the man waved them through.
Ink-black night was eating its way across the sky; the world had gone from deep blue to unrelieved black, and not one house around them showed a lamp. Every building lay buried in the dark, faint and indistinct — and so no one marked the brows Xie Yuanjue was slowly knitting, nor the faint, flickering shadow of pain in her face.
She rubbed the spot between her brows, puzzled. Curfew was curfew, but why would no household here light so much as a lamp? Could they truly have all gone to bed and put out their lights this early? Not until they passed a small courtyard whose wooden gate stood half open did those two doors suddenly swing wide — and out bounced a little girl of seven or eight, her voice crisp and gleeful:
“Ping-jiejie, you finally—” The words cut off short. Catching sight of the four strange women beside Chang Ping, the child went blank on the spot, stood silent a moment, then hastily amended, “Ping-gege… you finally came back…”
Chang Ping rubbed her nose and glanced sideways at the four beside her; finding them all perfectly composed, as though they’d heard nothing the child said, she gave a dry laugh. “Xiao Caideng, it’s good and dark out — what are you doing standing about here?”
“It’s good and dark and you still weren’t back. I was worried.”
“I’m fine — ran into some friends on the road today, that’s why I’m late. And just as well I caught you. Your family keeps lanterns made up ready, don’t they? Fetch us a few, won’t you?”
The little girl hesitated.
“These jiejie here will pay for them.” She turned back after saying it and explained to Ling Suihan and the others: “That place is an abandoned residence. If you mean to sleep there tonight, you’ll likely have to sweep it out first — and you’ll be wanting some light.”
At the word “buy,” the girl’s eyes lit up; she darted back inside, and in a trice came running out with four lanterns. She named a price first, then added, “They’re very dear. Will you be wanting one, or all four?”
The “dear” in question was, to Xie Yuanjue, a sum beneath notice; why the child should say such a thing she couldn’t have said, but she paid without an instant’s hesitation, drew a fire striker4 from within her robes, and lit the lantern. The paired-fish pattern on its shade was vivid as if alive, and she found herself admiring it aloud: “These lanterns are exquisite.”
Chang Ping laughed. “Her grandfather’s lantern craft is one of Chang’an’s rare wonders — of course they’re beautiful. All right, it’s late. Xiao Caideng, off home with you and get some rest; we’ll chat tomorrow.”
Lanterns in hand, after another stretch they came at last to the gate of a residence.
Chongming stopped short, open surprise and a fleeting flicker of worry crossing her face. “This is the abandoned residence you spoke of?”
Chang Ping nodded.
“But this house has an owner,” said Chongming.
“Who?”
“Me.”
“Wh-what?” Chang Ping gaped, disbelief written across her face. “Lady, don’t joke with me. I’ve lived in Wuri Ward for years, and I’ve never once seen a soul come here.”
“True,” said Chongming. “But I have decided to move in today.”
The author has something to say:
Tengshe and the Chongming bird are both creatures of ancient myth and legend. One is a flying serpent, also written “Tengshe” — the “tengshe riding the mist” of the old poems refers to it. The other is a bird that looks like a rooster but cries like a phoenix, with strength enough to wrestle fierce beasts.
Footnotes
- 青天老爷 | Qingtian Laoye | Literally 'Lord Clear Sky' — a folk honorific for the ideal incorruptible official, as unclouded as a clear sky; commoners cried it out when demanding impartial justice.
- 螣 | Teng | A mythic flying serpent of ancient Chinese legend, also called Tengshe, said to travel upon the mist; an exceedingly rare character to bear as a personal name.
- 重明 | Chongming | Literally 'double brightness' — a mythical bird like a rooster with two pupils in each eye, its cry like a phoenix's, strong enough to wrestle fierce beasts; Chinese door-god imagery traces back to it.
- 火折 | Huozhe | A portable Tang-era fire source: slow-burning paper tinder rolled tight and kept smoldering inside a small tube, blown into open flame when needed.
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