Chapter Eighty-Three: Men Can Never Escape Women

September’s weather alternates between sunshine and rain; after the rain, the sunlight loses its former sharpness, becoming gentle as jade as it warms the fresh earth beneath a radiant sky.

The courtyard of the old Lu family estate had been transformed into a modest study, where Zheng Hui and Bai Liangqi studied daily. With Li Sheng frequently joining them, the place had grown lively.

In the center of the courtyard, Zhou Liuzi extended his iron prosthetic hand, aiming at the old locust tree in front of the house and activating its mechanism. With a series of sharp sounds, several steel needles embedded themselves deep into the tree’s trunk. A brilliant smile broke across Zhou Liuzi’s usually stern face.

“What has the old locust tree ever done to you? There’s a perfectly good target, yet you insist on shooting at this poor old tree,” Lu Liao reprimanded Zhou Liuzi, her face clouded with displeasure.

Zhou Liuzi quietly stepped forward, removed the steel needles from the tree trunk, and lost all interest in further experiments.

“That’s the famed Night Lady of the capital—without a hundred thousand coins, you wouldn’t even get to see her face. Yet your senior brother secretly brought her home. Incredible!” Li Sheng, lounging on the veranda, looked enviously at Pei Fifth Lady beside him.

Like a ghost, Lu Liao appeared suddenly behind Li Sheng and struck his head hard with her folded fan.

“If a woman is yours, she’ll follow you no matter what; if she isn’t, no amount of money will win her over. Instead of gossiping here, you’d be better off studying military strategy and using your brain. You’re grown now and still lose every simulation to Bai Liangqi, a child of seven. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Li Sheng’s face flushed deep red, and he lowered his head, not daring to speak.

“Lu Liao, who are you insinuating would chase after a man?” Pei Fifth Lady stood with hands on her hips, glaring fiercely at Lu Liao.

“Did I say you? I was talking about this Li Sheng and Liangqi. Both named ‘Liangqi’—look at him, has he ever beaten little Bai Liangqi?” Lu Liao instantly became timid, shifting her target to Li Sheng.

“You say I’m useless, say he’s useless! I think he’s been working hard lately, making great progress. His formations are steady, Bai Liangqi’s sneak attacks have failed several times,” Pei Fifth Lady declared forcefully.

“Blindly seeking stability is pointless. Look at how he lost. Bai Liangqi failed to sneak attack, so he switched to feint attacks and drew out Li Sheng’s main forces to crush his flanks. Yet Li Sheng kept fighting the feints joyfully, until Bai Liangqi seized his rear army, surrounded him, and wiped him out,” Lu Liao sneered.

“Hmph! You’re just biased toward your direct disciple,” Pei Fifth Lady retorted angrily.

“Ask him yourself—when teaching strategy, have I ever held anything back?” Lu Liao pointed at Li Sheng, clearly displeased.

“Come, let’s go! Ignore him. He’s upset and takes it out on others,” Pei Fifth Lady grabbed Li Sheng and turned away.

“Hey! Explain to me—how am I losing my temper?” Lu Liao glared at Pei Fifth Lady’s retreating figure.

“Heaven’s misfortune can be forgiven; self-made disaster cannot be escaped,” Pei Fifth Lady tossed back, head held high as she left.

The wedding a few days before, disrupted by Qihua, had turned oddly muddled—as if he’d married two wives at once, yet it felt strange and not quite real. The commotion ended up hurting both Tang Xiaoqi and Gu Qihua.

After being told to go find his famed courtesan Night Lady, Lu Liao had been banished from Tang Xiaoqi’s rooms for several days. Sleeping in the study, he simmered with nameless anger, unsure where to direct it. His gloomy expression drove everyone to avoid him.

“After you tattled to the young mistress about the young master’s hidden money, he only takes Zhou Liuzi out now. How could I know he keeps someone outside? Tell me, is Night Lady really someone the young master can afford? No one would believe it,” Old Hu explained with a sigh as he followed behind Ping’er, the little maid watering the herb garden.

“You’re just useless! Such a big matter and you didn’t find out. The young mistress trusts us—watch the young master closely, or more fox spirits will slip in one after another,” Ping’er grumbled like a little adult.

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Lu Liao’s face darkened, almost dripping with gloom.

“You’re barely grown, yet you gossip like old wives. Careful—no one will dare marry you,” he scolded.

Startled by the sudden voice, Ping’er turned and saw Lu Liao appear mysteriously behind her, but then felt unafraid.

“Mind your own business! In two years I’ll be fifteen, and certainly able to marry. Isn’t that right?” Ping’er shot back, then smiled sweetly at Old Hu.

Old Hu, playing the sycophant, nodded rapidly.

Lu Liao sighed silently—what’s become of things? The women of the household all dared stand up to him, and there was no trace of the master’s authority.

“Go ask the young mistress—last night I mentioned it at her door: today, will she go to Xiangji Temple to pray or not?” Lu Liao forced a smile, trying to please Ping’er.

“To Xiangji Temple? Of course she’ll go! I’ll go prepare with the young mistress right now,” Ping’er laughed, excited, and dashed off toward Tang Xiaoqi’s courtyard.

“Why aren’t you getting the carriage ready?” Lu Liao snapped, glaring at Old Hu.

“You’re taking me out instead of Zhou Liuzi?” Old Hu looked at Lu Liao in disbelief.

“Hurry up—enough nonsense,” Lu Liao gave Old Hu a light kick.

On the road to Xiangji Temple, Tang Xiaoqi, Ping’er, and her dear friend Miss Luoluo squeezed into the carriage. Lu Liao hoped to find an opportunity to sweet-talk Tang Xiaoqi, but with Luoluo present, the chance evaporated.

Seeing the solemn monk Wuhua riding beside him, Lu Liao seized the moment, giving Wuhua’s bald head a hard knock.

“You’ve married a delicate wife and your son is months old, yet you still pretend to be a high monk.”

“Lu Liao! Knock my head again and I’ll lose my temper,” Wuhua glared furiously.

“See? Your true nature shows. What kind of monk gets angry at the drop of a hat? Lose your temper? What can you do about it? Can you beat me? And besides, I’m your brother-in-law—do you dare lay a hand on me?” Lu Liao crowed.

Wuhua suppressed his anger, started reciting Buddhist scriptures under his breath, and moved to the other side of the carriage.

“Sister! Look, Lu Liao is bullying my Wuhua again—aren’t you going to stop him?” Luoluo clung to Tang Xiaoqi’s sleeve, pouting.

Tang Xiaoqi lifted the carriage curtain, coldly glancing at Lu Liao without a word. Lu Liao immediately sat upright on his horse, following the carriage properly.

Xiangji Temple lies south of the imperial capital Chang’an, at the northern edge of the Shenhe Plain, nestled along the Ziji Valley of Zhongnan Mountain. To the south flows the Hao River, to the north lies the picturesque Fanchuan, while the Hao and Yu Rivers curl around to the west. The monastery is secluded but not lonely, tranquil but not desolate.

“Unaware of Xiangji Temple, clouds rise for miles. Ancient woods, no human path; deep mountains—where tolls the bell? The spring’s voice sobs at jagged stones; sunlight chills the green pines. At dusk, empty pool bends, meditation subdues the dragon.” To attract Tang Xiaoqi’s attention, Lu Liao recited Wang Wei’s “Passing Xiangji Temple,” feigning elegance.

The women in the carriage chattered and laughed, ignoring Lu Liao’s poetry, leaving him bored. Yet when he noticed many beggars sunning themselves around the temple, he smiled slightly, knowing that Guo Yan of the Beggar Gang had arrived.

Passing through the archway, stopping before the main hall, Lu Liao turned to Tang Xiaoqi with an apologetic smile: “My two masters are Daoists, the mistress is from the Daoist sect, and I count as half a disciple myself. It’s not proper for me to enter the Buddhist sanctuary. I’ll wait for you in the nearby teahouse.”

Tang Xiaoqi’s face frosted over, and she led Luoluo and the others away without a word. Seeing Wuhua and Old Hu follow, Lu Liao relaxed and headed to a secluded teahouse.

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Warm sunlight bathed everyone, making them drowsy. Guo Yan, dressed in clean, new clothes, reclined in a bamboo chair at the teahouse with his eyes half closed. For some reason, he no longer felt the leisure and comfort he once had, lying lazily in rags.

“Marrying three wives at once—are you overwhelmed, napping here in broad daylight?” Lu Liao stepped lightly, as stealthy as a cat, and sat smiling before Guo Yan.

“How could I be? I, Guo Yan, am young and vigorous—three wives, ten, I could handle them all!” Guo Yan, as a man, refused to show weakness, thumping his chest boastfully.

Lu Liao pursed his lips: “Brag all you like. Expanding so quickly—are things stable in the gang?”

“Rest assured, Brother Lu. The old hands keep to themselves now. Most who matter are my good brothers. Once we clear out the Beggar Gang in the east, we’ll march on Luoyang, then Chengdu and Yangzhou,” Guo Yan declared, gulping tea.

Lu Liao waved his hand: “No, I worry your foundation is shaky, too eager to succeed, so I came to discuss it.”

“Foundation? What foundation?” Guo Yan frowned in confusion.

“When the flock grows, all kinds of birds appear, and chaos follows. The priority is to establish order and rules in the gang—that’s the foundation. Second, your Beggar Gang has a terrible reputation. You need to gradually change that, build a positive image, so people stop hearing your name and feeling disgust,” Lu Liao sipped tea, serene.

Guo Yan scratched his head, puzzled: “Big brother, how do I do that?”

Lu Liao handed him a booklet: “Here are some regulations I wrote. You know your letters—read, discuss with your trusted brothers, and we’ll amend as needed.”

Guo Yan skimmed the booklet, then looked up: “All rules and regulations, but nothing on changing the gang’s reputation. How do I do it?”

Lu Liao replied slowly: “First, change the gang’s name to distance it from the old Beggar Gang. Second, find a founder to show long-standing tradition, so it’s not some random, chaotic gang. Third, create a heroic figure—righteous, punishing evil, full of valor. Fourth, have members start doing good deeds.”

Guo Yan nodded, half understanding.

“Keep an eye out for anyone in the gang with unusual talents—note them and tell me,” Lu Liao added.

Guo Yan glanced around, lowered his voice: “Speaking of unusual talents, I do have something. Recently, our people helped the authorities retrieve unclaimed bodies from the roadside. On one dead Daoist, we found a secret manual. I tried the methods in it, and they actually worked.”

Lu Liao scoffed—what manual could compare with the Seven Yin Seals of Ghost Valley? Still, he held out his hand, curious: “What manual? Let me see.”

Guo Yan grinned mischievously and furtively produced a book, handing it over.

Lu Liao glanced at the title—“Thirty-Six Secret Techniques of Dongxuanzi”—and flipped through it casually. Illustrated, annotated—within moments, Lu Liao’s face flushed red.

He swallowed dryly, voice trembling: “Does this really work?”

“Of course it does! Otherwise, how could I claim to handle ten wives?” Guo Yan laughed triumphantly.

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