Chapter Twelve: Choices and Decisions

On the grass, a few beautiful butterflies danced gracefully around yellow wildflowers. Yet, who could tell whether they would end up in the belly of a hunting spider, or flutter down on a cold night, spent and lifeless? However it ended, after breaking free from their cocoons, they always seemed to fade away at the height of their beauty.

Chewing a blade of grass, lying on the ground, Lu Liaoliao was lost in gloomy reflection. Only fifteen, he had not yet glimpsed the vistas of life, and yet he was already approaching its end.

That beautiful dream, the desperate flight, the lure of home—all these had, for a time, made him forget that he’d been poisoned with a deadly toxin, and had missed his monthly antidote.

Whether he had tried to forget those days or not, the memory was inescapable. The recent road inspection by the Five Venoms Sect forced him to remember.

Now, with their caravan pared down, they were moving faster, already within the borders of Zizhou. Chang’an drew ever closer. Yet, paradoxically, Chang’an grew ever more distant from him.

Chang’an was a place he could never return to. Not to mention the crushing debt he owed, a sum so great that even selling the three generations of his family—grandfather, father, and himself—would not suffice to repay it. Nor could he bear to see his family ruined, their honor lost, left destitute on the streets for his sake. Besides, the poison would likely take hold within days.

His brief life would leave nothing behind. Yet he could never forget that tear-streaked, despairing face.

“Lu Liaoliao! Come pick mushrooms with me.” Qing’er’s voice snapped him out of his brooding.

Ever since her young master had declared that these mountain mushrooms would become precious, Qing’er had taken a liking to gathering them in the woods. After Lu Liaoliao had once stopped her from picking a beautiful but deadly mushroom, Qing’er had quickly grown close to him, always inviting him along when she went foraging.

Qing’er’s conversation always circled back to her young master. From her, Lu Liaoliao learned that the youth was thirteen years old and named Lu Jiu. Despite such tender years, she was already the famed proprietor of the Incense Pavilion, a renowned cosmetics house of the Great Tang, and also the chief manager of the Sihai Merchants’ Guild’s Sword South Branch.

Lu Liaoliao’s once-proud heart had suffered countless blows. At first, Qing’er’s endless praise for her young master had stirred a faint jealousy in him, but now he regarded it all with indifference.

“Why do you think your young master is so remarkable? Mushrooms that spring up overnight in the woods—he can turn them into silver,” Qing’er said, picking a mushroom with her delicate, white hand.

That face, smiling like a blossom, made Lu Liaoliao think involuntarily of Miss Fang. Heaven only knew why, but both of these lovely girls would beam so radiantly at the very mention of silver.

“I don’t think your Ninth Young Master is all that special,” Lu Liaoliao said with a hint of sourness. “A man, yet prettier than most women, with a secret stash of women’s clothing.”

“Ninth Young Master is a girl, after all. Of course she’s beautiful, and it’s perfectly normal for her to have women’s clothes,” Qing’er replied with an innocent look, as if surprised he didn’t already know.

For once, Lu Liaoliao was truly at a loss. He said nothing for a long time, his face dark as he brushed past Qing’er to focus on a cluster of mushrooms.

He pondered for a while, then slowly gathered that inconspicuous cluster. They weren’t poisonous, but eating them would cause hallucinations. Lu Liaoliao knew it was time for him to leave, and these mushrooms were his opportunity—also, a small measure of revenge against Lu Jiu, that extraordinary, almost otherworldly girl.

The moon hung in a sparse sky, and the woods echoed with the eerie calls of owls. Unmoved, Lu Liaoliao pressed deeper into the wilds.

No one would come after him. Everyone else had drunk the mushroom soup, which would soon plunge them into hallucinations. What would they see, what would they do, under that spell? The thought made Lu Liaoliao smile knowingly.

He walked farther, climbed higher—from midnight to dawn, and from dawn until noon. His clothes grew damp with mist, then dried in the heat. Still, he had not found his final resting place.

Perhaps, nearing the end of his life, he felt a strange surge of energy. He walked all night and half the day, yet did not feel the slightest fatigue.

Climb, climb to the very top of the mountain. If, in life, he had been insignificant, then at least, in death, he would be above it all.

“Immortals? Could there really be reclusive sages in these deep mountains?” Lu Liaoliao nearly cried out at the sight of two distinguished figures locked in a game of Go atop the peak.

He dared not make a sound, standing quietly to watch.

The elder, playing black, had long white hair, yet few wrinkles marred his brow. His eyes were deep and wise. His moves were solid and unassailable, revealing not a single flaw.

The middle-aged man with the white stones was striking and ethereal, like an immortal who had descended to the mortal world. His play was agile and elusive, always seizing the crucial points.

Their skill was sublime; every subtlety drew an involuntary smile and nod from Lu Liaoliao. When the game ended and the old man was defeated, Lu Liaoliao shook his head in regret.

“Who would have thought, Master Taibin, that in your hidden retreat, aside from idle souls like myself, another worthy guest would arrive unannounced,” the middle-aged man said, toying with a stone, a hint of pride in his tone.

The elder was unperturbed, caring little for the outcome. Without asking Lu Liaoliao’s origin, he smiled kindly at him.

“You seem well-versed in Go, young friend. You shook your head at the end—did you think my final play was in error?”

Lu Liaoliao bowed. “I lost my way climbing the mountain and happened upon your game by chance, gentlemen. Though I know a little of Go, I could not resist watching your contest and hope you’ll forgive my intrusion. My regret was only for your loss, sir; I wouldn’t dare presume to judge your moves.”

But the old master was shrewd enough to see the flicker of dissent on Lu Liaoliao’s face. He laughed generously. “In Go, age means nothing; the wise may teach the old or young alike. If you have a novel move, do not hesitate to share it. Let us discuss it.”

Though still young, Lu Liaoliao had rarely met his match since learning the game. To encounter two such masters today made him itch to compete. Though he feigned reluctance, he did not stand on ceremony, resetting the board to twenty moves earlier, changing a consolidating move to a sharp attack on white’s formation.

With this, the white dragon survived, but gained far less territory. The outcome was now uncertain.

The two masters frowned in contemplation. The middle-aged man pondered, while the old man nodded repeatedly. “It seems I am growing old, lacking the vigor of youth.”

“You, boy, have some skill,” the middle-aged man said, unwilling to let it go. Ignoring Lu Liaoliao’s youth, he insisted on a match.

Lu Liaoliao disliked how the man had been so smug in victory but now was so ungracious in defeat, showing none of a true gentleman’s poise despite his elegant bearing.

“In my view, this gentleman’s skill is deeper than yours, though perhaps less concerned with winning. If we are to play, I’d rather have a game with the old master,” he said boldly.

The middle-aged man did not take offense at Lu Liaoliao’s proud words. He cleared the board and, with a challenging look, yielded his seat.

The old man laughed, waving his hand. “You and I have played many times, with wins and losses on both sides. Now, with a new opponent, let this old man take the first game.”

The middle-aged man, showing respect, gave up his seat, though with visible regret.

Lu Liaoliao took his place with composure, ready to match wits with the old master.

Noticing the old man’s cautious, defensive play, Lu Liaoliao grew dismissive. He thrust a stone deep into enemy territory, boldly provoking a reaction.

At last, the old man’s true depth revealed itself. With a gentle move, he bared his fangs at the isolated intruder. Lu Liaoliao twisted and turned, struggling to escape the encirclement, but could not break free. The old master’s gentle hands concealed steel, threatening the life of the entire group.

Lu Liaoliao pondered long and hard, deploying clever moves in succession until, at the brink of ruin, he found a chance to make a second eye. If he placed this stone, his dragon of twenty stones would live.

But as he studied the board, he saw that even if his group survived, he would lose the initiative. With the opponent’s next move pressing on the left, the overall situation would be hopeless.

Withdrew his hand from the board, Lu Liaoliao began a deep contemplation.

His desperate efforts to save his group had captivated the middle-aged man, who watched with growing admiration. But the old master, calm and experienced, surrounded without killing, his advantage secure. Even the middle-aged man could not see a way out for Lu Liaoliao.

The old man stroked his beard, waiting serenely for Lu Liaoliao’s decision—the fate of the dragon hung on a single thought.

A mountain wind began to howl, as if lamenting Lu Liaoliao’s reckless advance that led to this impasse.

Lu Liaoliao made his move—not to save his dragon, but to strike into the old man’s left flank.

Both of the others’ eyes widened in surprise. Would he really abandon such a large group?

The choice now lay with the old master: to take or not to take.

In the end, the old man could not resist. He took away one of the dragon’s eyes, killing it at the last moment. The dragon, after all its desperate flight, was mercilessly abandoned by Lu Liaoliao just as hope dawned.

The old master, pleased, gathered the captured stones. Lu Liaoliao, as if oblivious, made a light, floating move in the left flank.

Suddenly, the white-haired old man’s face changed. His stones near the star point fell in a single swoop, and his great territory was invaded. The profit from the captured stones could not compensate for the loss on the left. The balance of the game tipped in Lu Liaoliao’s favor.

When the match ended, both masters stared at the board for a long time before finally conceding defeat.

They pondered in silence, their expressions complex.

Before Lu Liaoliao could offer a word of courtesy, a sharp pain seized his belly, his mind went black, and he collapsed backward in a faint.