Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Zhou Family of Yixing (2)

Kong Sheng gazed at Mu Changfeng, the man in white who had ceased struggling, his face flushed with shame and anger. Slowly, Kong Sheng turned away, his eyes settling on the mottled and ruined deity statue inside the temple, a cold, mocking smile curling on his lips.

Liu Nian, so ruthless at heart—having failed previously to harm him with a drug-laced scheme hatched with Zhou Chang, now dispatched an assassin to claim his life. This had crossed Kong Sheng’s final line.

Enough is enough; what cannot be endured must not be endured!

A flash of ice-cold resolve flickered in Kong Sheng’s eyes.

He turned back, studying Mu Changfeng with a calm gaze. “How would you wish me to deal with you? Should I deliver you to the authorities? Once there, whether you confess or not, you’ll be a living witness to my attempted assassination, indicting Liu Nian for conspiracy to murder. As a man of the martial world, perhaps you fear neither death nor torture by the magistrate, but I believe—”

“But you surely dread a ruined reputation. If you land in the authorities’ hands, your fate will no longer be your own. Should word spread that you betrayed your benefactor, even if you escape the law, the martial world will scorn you—you’ll find no place among your peers.”

Mu Changfeng drew a sharp breath, jaw clenched. “What exactly do you want?”

Kong Sheng smiled, the expression ambiguous, and held his silence.

In a head-to-head contest with a martial wanderer like Mu Changfeng, sword against sword, Kong Sheng could not count on victory every time—indeed, capturing him alive today was a stroke of luck. But in a battle of wits and words, a hundred Mu Changfengs would not match him.

“I can release you,” Kong Sheng said at last, “and pretend nothing happened today. I won’t hand you to the authorities. But as a man of the martial world, you know: there’s no such thing as a free lunch—nor do pies fall from the sky. I am no pushover, no saint to forgive and forget all wrongs…”

Mu Changfeng’s eyes flashed with anger. “Just say what you want! Enough with this roundabout talk—don’t you tire of it?”

Kong Sheng let out a low chuckle. “I’ll let you go, keep you from the authorities. In return, you must serve as my guard for three years. Don’t worry, you’ll be my protector, not a servant. I won’t have you do anything immoral. Just stay close and guard me for three years, and I’ll treat you with respect and friendship.”

Mu Changfeng seemed caught off guard by the proposal. After a brief silence, he gave a cold laugh. “Aren’t you worried that once I’m free, I’ll come after you again—or simply vanish?”

“I only want your word. I’ve heard you martial men value a promise above life itself, never to regret it. Of course, should you break your word and disappear, so be it—I’d lose nothing. As for another attempt on my life…”

Kong Sheng’s expression turned cold, a hint of menace at the corners of his mouth. “Whoever dares attack me must be ready to pay a terrible price.”

Mu Changfeng’s lips twitched. He fell into a long, heavy silence.

Indeed, as Kong Sheng said, death did not frighten him, nor did torture. But as a man of the martial world, he valued his honor above all. To be branded a traitor, a man who sells out his benefactor, was shame he could never bear.

But to serve as this young man’s guard? The youth was both learned and skilled, clearly destined for greatness, and did not seem the villainous sort. If so…perhaps it was not impossible. Yet, how would he explain himself to Liu Nian?

No matter. He had already made his move—this was not a betrayal. In the future, he could repay Liu Nian’s kindness in other ways. Mu Changfeng’s thoughts raced, and he made his decision.

After a long pause, he raised his head. “I agree to guard you for three years. When the term ends, I’ll leave of my own accord. On three conditions: First, I am not your servant; I will not do anything that goes against the code of the martial world or my conscience. Second, if you ever commit evil or bring harm to the people, I reserve the right to rid the world of your menace. Third, though Liu Nian is no good man, he helped me bury my mother; I will not aid you against him or the Liu family.”

“Of course,” Kong Sheng replied. “Then we have an agreement.” With a casual shrug, he drew his flute-sword, swung it, and sliced through the knots binding Mu Changfeng.

With a long, wild cry, Mu Changfeng leapt free, his body twisting in the shadows. He fixed Kong Sheng with a deep, searching look, then vaulted to the rafters and disappeared through a gap in the temple roof.

Kong Sheng was unconcerned. Unhurried, he pushed open the temple doors and strode away. Lacking Mu Changfeng’s ability to come and go like a shadow, he could only take the path he came, hurrying back to the Shunsheng Inn before the city’s nightly curfew.

As for Mu Changfeng’s future, Kong Sheng was confident. He knew such men kept their promises—a word once given was unbreakable. Since Mu Changfeng had agreed to serve as his guard, he would not renege. When the time was right, he would return.

Let us turn to another thread of this story.

The Zhou clan of Yixing sent a grand trading caravan to Jiangning Prefecture, led personally by the second-generation patriarch, Zhou An—Zhou Chang’s father—a most unusual event.

The Zhou family of Yixing, a local aristocratic clan, had deep roots in the south, stretching back to the Han, Jin, and Three Kingdoms periods, producing many famed figures in history. Once, the Yixing Zhou family and the Wuxing Shen family were hailed as the two great houses of the east. But as dynasties rose and fell, by the Sui and Tang dynasties, the Zhou family declined, no longer enjoying their former glory. Few of their kin entered government, and even fewer rose high in the bureaucracy; most turned to commerce.

Thus, in recent decades, the Zhou family amassed vast lands and wealth, their economic influence ever growing. Yet, lacking a seat at the center of power, their clout was never secure, no matter how great their resources.

To befriend the powerful, recommend their own sons to official posts, and revive the old path of gentry ascendancy—this had been the Zhou family’s strategic goal for the past ten years. Zhou Chang was their brightest hope, carefully cultivated as the key to their resurgence.

Zhou Chang’s humiliation in Jiangning—his defeat, disgrace, and insult—was felt by the entire Zhou clan. The old patriarch immediately ordered Zhou An to travel to Jiangning under the guise of trade, bearing lavish gifts to win the favor of the local overlord, Yang Qi.

Zhou An himself paid a formal visit. Yang Qi, at first indifferent, received him only out of courtesy; but as the Zhou family steward recited the list of gifts, Yang Qi’s posture straightened, his spirits visibly lifting.

“A hundred jars of ten-year-old Nu’er Hong wine.”

“Five hundred bolts each of raw silk, hempen cloth, and fine cotton.”

“One hundred bolts of purple-dyed silk.”

“Ten Persian camels.”

“Three pairs of Turkic stallions and mares.”

“One manor in Jiangning Prefecture, with thirty-six household servants.”

The more Yang Qi heard, the more his heart pounded, though he kept his face impassive. Inside, however, his thoughts surged like a rising tide.

The Zhou family’s gifts were not merely generous—they were staggering, worth over half a million cash. Such open-handed largesse, simply as an introductory gesture? Yang Qi could not believe it.

Seated below, Zhou An hid his satisfaction. The Zhou family had little else but wealth; he did not believe so vast a treasure would fail to win the heart of Yang Qi, the governor of the south.