Poetry Chants, Saber Howls – Chapter 17
by Little PandaTruth and Falsehood in the Chaotic Mortal World; I Walk My Own Path, Bold and Unabashed (Part 2)
Not only was Ling Cheng utterly baffled, but the handful of common folk frozen on the spot were equally bewildered.
A moment later, a middle-aged woman stepped cautiously forward and explained that her husband’s surname was Chen, that the girl was her and her husband’s only daughter, named Chen Juan, and that her surname wasn’t Ling. The girl had never left Chenjia Village since childhood—how could she possibly have committed any crime of treason? Perhaps the officers had mistaken her for someone else?
“Oh? Got the wrong person, have we?” The guard shifted his gaze, sizing the girl up from head to toe with an eerie smile. “Ah, well, to catch that imperial fugitive, we’ve run we don’t know how many roads. We’re truly worn out—maybe a bit dizzy and bleary-eyed. But whether or not we’ve actually got the wrong person… that depends on what you folks can produce to prove it.”
Ling Cheng still couldn’t fathom what they were really after.
But the woman, who’d lived more than half a lifetime and seen plenty, understood perfectly the moment she heard those words. They were using the hunt for an imperial fugitive as a pretext to extort money from her. Fury filled her chest, yet she didn’t dare offend the officers. She forced a smile. “We’re just ordinary folk. We’ve never even heard of this imperial fugitive you’re talking about, let alone whether it’s true or not. You can’t just…” Her voice gradually weakened. “You can’t just declare something and have it be so…”
“What, you think we’re lying to you!”
The guard gave a cold laugh and pulled a wanted poster from his robes. Written on it, plain as day, was a decree for the capture of the traitor Ling Bingzhong’s daughter, Ling Cheng.
“This fugitive’s current whereabouts are unknown. She may well be in disguise, hiding among the common folk. By the Sage’s decree, anyone suspicious is to be seized and brought in for questioning. If you can’t produce evidence, then we’ll just have to…”
The woman saw the vicious gleam in his eyes and grew even more terrified. She pulled her daughter by the hand and retreated two steps, whispering to her husband, “Husband…”
By now, Ling Cheng—still hidden in the treetop—had begun to grasp the situation. Shock, suspicion, and anger churned together. Her brows knitted tight, her eyes fixed unblinking on the girl, her face etched with worry. She hesitated again and again, yet remained perfectly still.
—As long as this girl’s parents were willing to pay, she would naturally be saved.
—But the moment she showed herself, she’d be dead for certain.
The resentment that still smoldered in her heart stayed Ling Cheng’s hand.
The girl’s father, meanwhile, wore a pained expression, cursing his luck for not checking the almanac1 before leaving home—his fortune today was truly wretched. Twelve guards in all faced him; if every last one expected a payoff, the sum would be no small matter. He could afford it, but how could he bear to part with the silver? As he wavered, the guard barked another impatient demand. Panic seized him, and he shoved his daughter forward.
“Father!” The girl stumbled, nearly falling, barely catching her balance. Terror was written across every inch of her face.
He didn’t so much as glance at his daughter. Instead, he bowed respectfully toward the guards and smiled. “The sirs are quite right. Apprehending an imperial fugitive is a grave matter—of course it demands thorough questioning. This humble one wouldn’t presume to interfere.”
This time, it was the dozen or so guards’ turn to gape.
Such schemes were old hat to them—they’d pulled this stunt before, and every prior occasion had gone smoothly. When they’d spotted this man emerging from that grand mountain manor, fair-skinned and stout, dressed in brocade silk, they’d pegged him for a wealthy local landowner and assumed they could squeeze a hefty sum from him. They never dreamed he’d be this cooperative.
But this wasn’t the kind of cooperation they wanted. A long saber flashed out, its blade pressing against the girl’s neck.
The girl and her mother screamed in unison.
“Since you can’t produce evidence, then we’ll just have to…”
The woman tugged frantically at her husband’s sleeve. “Juan’er is our daughter…”
“Daughters can always be born again later, can’t they…” He cut her off, continuing to ease backward, muttering under his breath. Besides, even if they couldn’t, it didn’t matter—so long as their son was fine.
The guard had never encountered such a miser in all his days. He laughed from sheer exasperation, the cold flat of the blade patting the girl’s cheek. “Do you know what happens to traitors?! You think we won’t actually do it?!”
The girl was so frightened she nearly fainted. Her mother went deathly pale, begging without cease. Only the middle-aged man hesitated a moment, then forced a sickly smile. “If the sirs insist she’s a traitor, then this humble one also—”
“But of course she’s not a traitor!” Before the man could finish, a crisp child’s voice rang out from seemingly nowhere. Everyone present froze. Then a small figure dropped from the large poplar tree nearby—a little girl, exquisitely delicate, as though carved from jade. She looked about ten years old, yet her face was set with fierce resolve, her features as cold as frost. “And she’s certainly not Ling Cheng. The one you’re after is me. Why drag innocent people into this!”
The guards stared, dumbfounded. “You… you’re Ling Cheng?”
Ling Cheng said coldly, “Now that you know who I am, let her go!”
The guards exchanged glances of sheer disbelief. They’d only been out to make a little extra money—how had they stumbled into this windfall? Did this little girl not understand that she’d walked right into their net, that it meant certain death? But her age did match what they knew of Ling Bingzhong’s daughter. Grins spread across their faces. “Young Lady Ling, you’re courting your own doom—don’t blame us for that.” They raised their sabers and advanced.
In the instant she’d leapt from the tree, Ling Cheng had already made her decision. Her martial skills were no match for this many guards, but she’d take at least one down with her. As they closed in, she swallowed the fear rising in her chest, recalled the few palm techniques Su Ying had once taught her, and had just raised her left hand when a chorus of shrieks erupted—
“Aiyowei!”
Ling Cheng froze. She hadn’t even struck yet—how had every single guard instantly hit the ground? As she stared in bewilderment, a crisp ding-dang sounded beside her ear. She whipped her head around. A flash of color—a woman in resplendent robes descended from the treetops, jade pendants2 chiming melodiously. She leaned against a tree trunk and smiled faintly.
“Long time no see. I’ve finally found you all.”
The guards realized she was addressing them. They blinked, struggling to their feet. “You… who are you?”
“What, you don’t recognize me?”
“Have we met before? Who are you!”
The Golden Feather Guards didn’t know this woman. But Ling Cheng, the moment she saw the face, blurted out involuntarily, “Zhao Yao?!” Then puzzlement seized her: they had parted only a shichen ago. When had she arrived here?
Zhao Yao seemed not to see her, her gaze still locked on the guards. “You don’t recognize me, but I remember you. Last month you killed several young heroes of the jianghu. You’re public enemies of the martial world now. I’ve been tracking you down for a long time—where exactly do you think you’re running?”
“Bullshit! Last month we were on night watch inside the imperial palace—when would we have killed anyone? Do you have any idea who we are? Slinging mud on us—have you eaten a bear’s heart and a leopard’s gall?!” They’d already guessed this woman was a jianghu martial artist, but she was alone. How could one person prevail against their combined strength? That sudden tumble just now must have been a sneak attack. Now that they were on guard, they had nothing to fear. They exchanged looks, raised their weapons, and charged as one!
“Be careful!” Ling Cheng cried out.
Zhao Yao didn’t move. She reached back and drew the Ring-Pommel Saber from its scabbard in a single reverse motion—sleeves streaming, a flash of cold steel!
More howls of agony. This time they fell even harder, and every one of them bore a fresh wound—not lethal, but bleeding freely, the pain enough to tear the soul from the body.
Zhao Yao tilted her head, her smile growing even more bewitching. “Could it be I’ve mistaken you for someone else? Perhaps I’ve rested too little these past two days and I’m a bit dizzy and bleary-eyed. But whether or not I’ve actually got the wrong person… that depends on what you folks can produce to prove it.”
The words were achingly familiar. The guards’ minds went “boom” as they grasped her intent.
As the old saying went, a wise person yields to immediate odds. No matter how furious they were, having witnessed this woman’s skill, they didn’t dare provoke her further. After a brief hesitation, they hauled themselves up once more, dug out their purses, and offered them up. They told themselves: just survive today’s disaster, then gather the brethren and hunt this enchantress to the ends of the earth—drag her back in chains and throw her in a dungeon.
Zhao Yao took the purses, shook out some pieces of silver, and tossed them in her palm. “These are things you like. Just handing them over like that—aren’t you reluctant?”
“Well… if it pleases you, Heroine, then—”
“You’re wrong. Who says I necessarily like what you like? Pity you didn’t produce the evidence I wanted. And I don’t deprive others of what they cherish.” With that, her right hand flicked up. “I’ll give them back to you!”
Silver light bloomed like a flower unfolding. No one present could follow her movement—it was over in a blink. Twelve pieces of silver had been driven into the foreheads of all twelve guards, embedded deep in the space between their brows. This time they didn’t even have a chance to scream. Crimson blood streamed from their foreheads, and with a heavy thud, every last one collapsed.
Her face never lost its spring-breeze radiance. She killed as casually as chatting—her speed, her ruthlessness, her cruelty so absolute that even the bystanders felt their blood run cold. After a stunned moment, the middle-aged man began to ease his feet backward.
Only Ling Cheng showed not the slightest fear. Her eyes shone with star-bright wonder, her gaze fixed on Zhao Yao—and on the Ring-Pommel Saber in Zhao Yao’s hand.
The blade traced a lazy arc, coming to rest against the middle-aged man’s shoulder as lightly as a snowflake drifting down. The motion was effortless, natural.
“Did I say you could leave?”
“Great King, spare my life! Great King, spare my life!” The man felt the cold at his neck and began to tremble all over. He had no idea what she wanted, and ventured tentatively, “If it isn’t silver you’re after, then… tell me what you like, and I’ll find it for you, I swear.”
Earlier, he’d been willing to sacrifice his own daughter’s life to keep his money. But now it was his life on the line—and that was an entirely different matter.
“Oh, there’s plenty.” Zhao Yao smiled. “I like different things every day. And right now, I rather like taking your life.”
Hearing this, the man felt half his three souls and seven spirits3 fly away, his heart jammed in his throat. “Great King, we’ve no grudge between us, past or present. I… I don’t know how I’ve offended you…”
“Must you have offended me before I can kill you?” Zhao Yao’s tone was perfectly casual. “This young lady kills whoever she pleases, whenever it suits her mood. No need to be too afraid. When you’re dead, your parents can always have another child later, can’t they?”
These words, too, were achingly familiar.
The man stared blankly for a long moment, then recovered his wits with a smile uglier than a grimace. “My parents are already gone. If I die…”
“Babies are born every day in this world. If you die, other couples can still produce new children. What are you afraid of? Unless—” Zhao Yao gripped the saber’s handle, gave her wrist a slight turn, and in an instant the blade had opened a bloody gash across the man’s shoulder. The blinding pain drew a hog-slaughter shriek from his throat. “—you’re not actually human. Ordinary couples would indeed have trouble producing something as inhuman as you. In that case, perhaps I can spare your life.”
His knees buckled. He dropped to the ground and began kowtowing on instinct, forehead cracking against the earth. “I’m not human, I’m not human! I’m truly not human! Great King, spare my life!”
Zhao Yao’s smile vanished. She withdrew the blade at last and watched with cold eyes as he knocked his head against the ground several more times before drawling, “Right now, in your heart—you’re cursing me, aren’t you?”
The man shook his head frantically. “I’ve been wronged, I… I wouldn’t dare…”
“I know whatever you’re thinking. Just as I can hear everything you say, no matter how softly you say it.”
The man went rigid. He stopped kowtowing. Only then did it hit him: that line about “daughters can always be born again”—he’d whispered it into his wife’s ear. How could anyone else have heard?
Zhao Yao said, “Have you heard of sorcery?”
“Wh-what…”
Zhao Yao pushed off lightly with her toes, her entire body launching skyward to the crown of a great tree, leaving the man even more thunderstruck. “Let me tell you—I am one who practices sorcery. No matter where you are, what you say, what you do—nothing escapes my ears and eyes.” Her gaze drifted slowly, appraising the dazed girl some distance away. “This young lady has fine features. I like her. She belongs to me now, and her life is mine to collect. But I’ve been enjoying my quiet lately, so I don’t know what year or day I’ll come for her. If you harm her one hair’s breadth because of what happened today—try it, and see what comes.”
No matter how wild his suspicions, the man’s mouth wouldn’t stop moving. “Yes, yes. What the Great King practices must be immortal arts—”
Zhao Yao laughed. “I told you, I know what’s in your heart. No need to say pretty things about me. Get lost.”
The man’s right shoulder was still oozing blood. All he wanted was to reach a physician’s clinic as fast as possible. The moment he heard her final words, he scrambled to his feet. Seeing that she truly wasn’t stopping him, he forced a bitter face, blurted “Many thanks to the Great King for sparing my life,” and turned tail and ran. The woman and the girl hesitated briefly, bowed to Zhao Yao, and followed after him.
It was nearing the Wu Hour4. The Golden Crow5 hung directly overhead, the moment when worldly yang energy reached its absolute peak. Zhao Yao was still perched in the tree, bathed in sunlight. At last she turned to look at the little girl below. The child met her gaze without a shred of inhibition, eyes brilliant, sparkling with excitement.
For an instant, Zhao Yao was actually suspicious. “What are you so excited about?”
Ling Cheng said, “You’re amazing!”
Zhao Yao said, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
Ling Cheng said, “You’re a good person. Why would I be afraid of you?”
“A good person?” Zhao Yao glanced sideways at the twelve corpses on the ground, arched a brow, and smiled. “You’re Ling Bingzhong’s daughter?”
Ling Cheng’s heart had still been surging with exhilaration. The sudden mention of her father wiped the smile from her face. She lowered her eyes. “Yes…”
Zhao Yao said, “Is Su Ying working as a guard at your house? Where is she?”
“You know Aunt Su?”
Footnotes
- 黄历 | Huangli | Traditional Chinese almanac listing auspicious and inauspicious dates for every activity; checking it before outings was customary, making 'didn't consult the almanac' a stock complaint about rotten luck.
- 环佩 | Huanpei | Jade pendant ornaments worn at the waist by noble women in ancient China, producing a delicate chiming sound as the wearer moves; a classical symbol of feminine grace.
- 三魂七魄 | Sanhun Qipo | Daoist concept of the human spiritual constitution: three souls and seven spirits that together animate the body; used idiomatically to mean one's very being or wits, as in 'losing half' when terrified.
- 午时 | Wushi | The seventh earthly-branch double-hour, spanning 11:00 AM to 1:00 PM; in Chinese cosmology, the moment when yang energy reaches its absolute peak.
- 金乌 | Jinwu | Literally 'golden crow'—a mythical three-legged crow in Chinese mythology that dwells inside the sun; a classical poetic metaphor for the sun itself.
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