Chapter Forty-One: The Autumn Waters First Draw Their Blade

A luxurious carriage halted at the entrance of the Health and Wellness Hall. Two young maids supported an elderly man with white hair and a stooped back as he walked into the front courtyard. Old Hu lounged in the gatehouse, squinting as he stared hard at the maids’ fair, tender chests. When they disappeared from view, his gaze lingered greedily on their pert, rounded hips, reluctant to look away.

A sharp smack landed on his head. Old Hu quickly looked up, a fawning smile blossoming on his face. “Young Master, are you heading out again? I don’t see Zhou Liuzi with you.”

“Did you enjoy the view?” Lu Liaole sneered.

“Heh heh, heh heh,” Old Hu giggled foolishly, saying nothing.

“I’ve punished you by assigning you to the gatehouse, but it seems you quite like lazing around here,” Lu Liaole said with little patience.

“Young Master, you always want me to study, but those characters… I swear, they all recognize me, but I just can’t recognize them. And they’re nowhere near as nice to look at as the girls here,” Old Hu said, scratching his head in exasperation.

“I think you’re just itching for trouble again. Should I call Zhou Liuzi over to help relieve your itch?” Lu Liaole was already speechless at this scoundrel’s antics.

“You know, Young Master, when I get itchy and Zhou Liuzi gives me a beating, it actually feels pretty good,” Old Hu replied with a silly grin.

“You’re incorrigible. You’re clearly taking the antidote I gave you—which should suppress the symptoms for half a month—but no, after just three days you start itching again. Then you beg Zhou Liuzi to beat you. I really don’t know what to do with you,” Lu Liaole said with a headache, shaking his head.

“I think, honestly, this strange affliction is something you scared me into,” Old Hu said with a look of grievance.

“Get up! Go fetch the horses, then come out with me.” How had such a shameless loafer once become a notorious river pirate leader?

“I say, Zhou Liuzi brings this on himself. He could be living peacefully here in Chang’an, collecting his monthly stipend from the Young Lady, but every morning he insists on practicing left-handed swordsmanship. With you at our side, who could ever harm us? And now, look at him—twisted his ankle and can’t even accompany you,” Old Hu grumbled as he walked, his muttering making Lu Liaole’s head ache.

On the way to the West Market, Old Hu started up again.

“You haven’t noticed, Young Master, but more and more customers have been coming to the Health and Wellness Hall lately. The men just keep getting older and older, but their maids are all young and beautiful. I heard from the doctors in the courtyard that the pill recipe you brought back is something incredible. Each pill sells for fifty taels of silver! My heavens, fifty taels each! And despite the price, more and more customers keep coming. The Young Lady can’t stop smiling, even promising to give us an extra month’s silver next month.”

“Fifty taels per pill—is that expensive? You must be blinded by poverty, or you’d have a bit more sense,” Lu Liaole thought with some pride. He’d fought hard to get his grandfather to agree to raise the price from ten to fifty taels.

“Sticking by your side, Young Master, I’m learning more every day,” Old Hu said, his flattery growing ever more refined.

When they arrived at the blacksmith’s shop, they watched Old Man Hu Yun at work for a while. When he finally finished, Lu Liaole stepped forward with a smile. “Uncle Hu, your smithing skills are truly profound. Just look at the rhythm in each hammer strike—it’s as if you’re revealing the very principles of the Dao.”

“Bah! Stop buttering me up. Smithing is just smithing—where do you see any profound rhythm or truth? What do you want from me? Out with it,” Hu Yun retorted bluntly.

“Uncle Hu, do you remember the retainer I brought over last time? He was a remarkable knife fighter, but unfortunately, he ran into a formidable villain and lost his right hand at the wrist. Lately, he’s been training hard with the left-handed sword—really suffering. I was hoping you could make him a prosthetic, one he could wield a blade with,” Lu Liaole said ingratiatingly. Old Hu wanted to say that the fearsome villain was standing right there, but he dared not voice it and had to swallow his words.

“No problem! As long as there’s enough silver, I guarantee his right hand will be better than ever,” Hu Yun declared grandly.

Lu Liaole’s face darkened. “You elders always lose your dignity as soon as money’s mentioned. Is it right to talk about silver when helping your own kin?”

“My materials cost money, my craft costs money, all this hard work costs money! Without money, how am I supposed to feed my family? I have plenty of kin—if I did everything for free, are we all supposed to starve?” Hu Yun’s spittle nearly sprayed Lu Liaole’s face.

“All right, all right, I’ll bring him by next time. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay you,” Lu Liaole conceded, unable to argue.

“That cold-faced lad is obviously skilled—a real expert. I’ll help you make him even stronger, give you another edge. Don’t take advantage and play coy. But this one you’ve got now—looks as dumb as a post, completely useless,” Hu Yun added.

At that, both Lu Liaole and Old Hu’s faces darkened.

“I heard you closed down the Huji Tavern for renovations? That’ll cost a pretty penny. Even the Abbot of the temple is letting you handle it?” Hu Yun continued, ignoring Lu Liaole’s sour expression.

Lu Liaole drew the longsword Autumn Water with annoyance. “Master Uncle said that this time, everything is up to me.”

“So the West Market affairs are for you to decide as well?” Hu Yun asked in surprise.

“She gave me Autumn Water not just for show. The West Market is mine to oversee now, too,” Lu Liaole replied.

Hu Yun took a long sip of tea, wiped his beard, and said, “Since she trusts you young folks, do as you see fit. If you need me to take the lead, I’ll be there.”

Lu Liaole whispered something in Hu Yun’s ear, and Hu Yun led him into a back room. Old Hu waited out front for ages, but the two did not emerge.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, the old and the young man finally came out. Old Hu keenly noticed a hint of wariness in Hu Yun’s gaze toward Lu Liaole.

“Scholars, when ruthless, even Heaven has cause to fear,” Hu Yun muttered, shaking his head.

Old Hu longed to tell Hu Yun that the demon himself was standing beside him, but still didn’t dare.

Guo Yan lounged lazily in the shade, half-closed eyes wary, surveying his surroundings. He was responsible for this stretch of the West Market controlled by the Beggars’ Guild, making sure the little beggars and the pickpockets targeting the fat merchants caused no trouble.

Autumn sunlight had lost its warmth. Fallen leaves lay scattered all around. With winter approaching, Guo Yan wondered how many of the maimed little beggars would survive. Outside the city, at the Temple of the Lady, the beggar chief Yi Tianchi would soon have more children abducted, hands and feet severed, to beg in the bustling West Market.

Guo Yan abhorred these things, but as a youth in his early twenties, he held little power in the Beggars’ Guild and was unable to stop them. All he could do was hope the cursed winter would come late—very late.

Suddenly, a figure blocked the sunlight. Guo Yan stared in confusion at the smiling young man before him.

“You’re Guo Yan, adopted son of Yi Tianchi, leader of the Beggars’ Guild?” Lu Liaole squatted down, with Old Hu standing at a distance.

“Who are you? How do you know who I am?” The Four Seas Merchants’ Guild had recently sworn to drive the Beggars’ Guild out of the West Market, so Guo Yan shrank back cautiously, clutching a handful of dirt defensively.

“You’re an orphan, taken in by someone else. Coincidentally, so am I.” As he spoke, Lu Liaole flashed a bronze badge from the Azure Cloud Society.

Only then did Guo Yan relax, though still suspicious. “That’s the president’s token from the Azure Cloud Society. Looks like you have a high position there. If you have business, you should find the elders or the guild leader, not some exiled beggar like me.”

Lu Liaole put away the token, smiling. “Don’t worry about status. We’re of similar age, both orphans adopted by others—makes it easier to talk.”

“I’ve offended my foster father. You’re looking for the wrong person,” Guo Yan replied coldly, unwilling to trust.

“If you hadn’t offended your foster father, I wouldn’t have sought you out,” Lu Liaole said, idly picking up a fallen leaf and examining it.

Guo Yan was puzzled, silent.

“Do you know why the Four Seas Merchants’ Guild is so determined to drive your Beggars’ Guild out of the West Market? First, you abduct innocent children, sever their hands and feet, and force them—filthy and miserable—to beg in the market. Such cruelty is monstrous, unforgivable. Second, when begging doesn’t work, you resort to theft, and when that fails, you dump refuse and filth into shops, making the West Market foul and squalid. Even I find it intolerable,” Lu Liaole said angrily.

Guo Yan lowered his head in shame.

“We’re both orphans, abandoned by our parents and lucky enough to have been taken in. Do you really have the heart to watch as, again and again, children are mutilated and forced to beg? How many die from pain or illness, we cannot even count,” Lu Liaole pressed, his tone stern.

“I’ve argued with my foster father, tried to persuade him to stop. But he insists it’s the guild’s tradition, one he can’t—won’t—break,” Guo Yan protested, his cheeks flushed.

“If you were the guild master—if, I say—what would you do?” Lu Liaole asked.

“If I were leader, I’d never allow such inhuman things to happen. But begging and theft—those are our ways of survival. That I cannot change,” Guo Yan replied.

“The only good thing your guild ever did was to collect the corpses of the destitute, those who died in the streets or drowned in the rivers, and take them to the charity morgue for a reward. Yet the wealth right before your eyes, you do not see,” Lu Liaole said with pity, shaking his head.

“We beggars have nothing—what wealth is there?” Guo Yan looked at Lu Liaole in confusion.

“The refuse you hurl at shops, and all this garbage scattered about,” Lu Liaole said with a faint smile.

“These stinking, filthy things? You call that wealth?” Guo Yan retorted angrily.

“Think about it: Chang’an has one hundred and eight wards, each with well over ten thousand people. Where does all that refuse end up? In the open canals. When you see the filth floating there, smell that stench, doesn’t your chest tighten with disgust? Our glorious capital, engulfed in such foulness—it’s an offense to Heaven.

“But if your guild began collecting the refuse and garbage from every ward each morning, wouldn’t the residents tip you? Wouldn’t the authorities be grateful? Wouldn’t the people thank you? Who would want to drive you out then?” Lu Liaole’s words tumbled out.

Guo Yan stared blankly, then asked, “But if we collect all that, where do we put it?”

“There are buyers, of course,” Lu Liaole said, tapping his own nose.

“You? What do you want with that?” Guo Yan was completely bewildered.

“Do you know the Jade Truth Monastery just outside the city? Its master owns much land. If you bring that garbage and refuse, useful scraps you beggars can keep, but the rest—pile it up by the fields. In time, it turns into first-rate fertilizer, increasing the yield by forty percent. Once the results are clear, others will compete to buy from you.

“If you succeed in this, beggars across the land will follow your lead.”