“What do you say we take out that den of villainy?” Qingran asked, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Of course, Yan was more than happy to oblige. There was no better way to relieve pent-up stress than fighting with a justifiable cause.

The caravan would reach the inn by mid-morning, but both of them agreed it would be imprudent to endanger the merchants, so they decided to recruit some of the faster-traveling mercenaries into a vanguard. The group would leave before dawn.

With a plan set, Yan found himself refreshed despite the long day he’d endured. He leaned leisurely against a tree, in the mood for some conversation.

“I didn’t get the chance to ask you before, but what are you doing here? Last we parted ways, you said you were headed south in search of a mentor.”

Qingran had once mentioned that his life’s mission was to learn all the sword arts there was to know in the world. It was a lofty mission, one often thwarted by the cagey protectiveness many schools felt over their martial legacies.

“I can’t think of any reason why you would be interested in doing transport jobs. Unless…” 

It couldn’t be an issue of money. Qingran clearly had no lack of personal funds. Maybe he was interested in one of the merchant’s daughters? 

A certain line of rhetoric had come into fashion at the drinking holes Yan passed through, chiefly among the dandy-ish itinerants who were known more for their looks and atmosphere of lovely dissipation than their capabilities in a fight. According to them, merchant daughters had a unique appeal which made them “a delicacy, comparable to the scallop of the seas.”

Wealthier merchant daughters were as well-dressed and well-read as noble ladies, but their common status meant they could move through society with a confidence only obtainable through worldly experience. And unlike that other class of educated working women, they were far less likely to break a man’s heart.

Yan thought most of this was nonsense. What did it even mean for someone to be comparable to “the scallop of the seas”? Scallops always came from the sea. Besides, scallops were scallops, and people were people.

Qingran looked as lost as Yan had felt when he’d first heard of this.

“Unless?”

“…Never mind. It’s nothing important.” 

Best not to pollute the mind of an upstanding young man with the ideas of that lush and rake. 

“My trip to the southern kingdoms failed to yield the results I had hoped for. As expected, my inability to speak the language greatly limited my pool of teachers,” Qingran sighed, a wistful smile gracing his lips. 

“While I did not drink as deeply from the font of martial knowledge as I had wished, my sense of the possibilities that lie in existing sword forms has broadened after observing their fighters. Their martial arts integrate a strong foundation of hand-to-hand combat, somewhat reminiscent of the Shaolin traditions.”

“As for why I’ve taken on the task of escorting merchants,” Qingran cocked his head in a look of good humor, “Why, I thought I could do a good deed on my way home.”

Both of them fell silent at the mention of “home.“ Qingran’s family was like Yan’s in that they did not approve of the Jianghu swordsman’s life adrift. It was probably worse when “family” was a whole clan of bureaucrats with a reputation to uphold, and not just one old man who liked to nag too much. But if their situations were anything alike, “family” was also more complicated than what any other person could speak on.

Qingran seemed to sense Yan’s hesitation and quickly changed the topic.

“Never mind me. How did you come to be in… the state I found you in?”

“Oh, that.” Yan scratched his head. “It’s really not a flattering story to tell... The long and short of it is, I fought one too many duels that got out of hand, and those other guys never paid for any of the property damage. Bad enough they were beaten, I thought, so the least I could do was be a gracious winner, but those expenses ended up emptying my coin pouch. One time, I had to wash dishes for three weeks straight, haha!”

He decided not to mention the horse trader and the other scammers and pickpockets who’d targeted him over the years. It was too embarrassing. 

Qingran studied him for a bit, then burst into laughter.

“Your qinggong¹ 轻功, lit. “light work.” A mainstay of wuxia works referring to the ability to run on air and water, perch on branches or otherwise precarious objects that would not take human weight, as well as leap and dodge in physics-defying ways. is first-rate. You didn’t run?”

“Only a scoundrel would run,” Yan grumbled. “I haven’t sunken that low yet.”

At that, Qingran smiled. 

“I know. Ever since I’ve met you, I’ve seen you as an exemplary senior.”

Even in the dark, the brightness of the sincerity in Qingran’s eyes left Yan feeling embarrassed.

“You shouldn’t flatter me too much. When we reach the inn, my head will be too swollen to fit through the door.”

Qingran only shook his head.

“If you will permit me a few words, Swordsman Yan... You mustn’t be so humble. After all, to hold known knowledge as known and to admit unknown knowledge as unknown is wisdom. To know oneself is enlightenment.”

“Is that really how those sayings are supposed to be used?”

Yan vaguely remembered the old man trying to teach him something like that when he was a child, though the exact lessons were usurped by memories of copying extra lines and smearing ink everywhere until his grandpa had finally relented and let him do horse stance as his punishment instead.

“Perhaps not, but it’s how I prefer to understand it. My tutors always emphasized the part about humbleness and ‘not knowing’—though as the sages observe, the world is full of people on both sides who fall short of the virtue of the mean. So besides the overly wise men, why shouldn’t there also be frivolous contrarians like me who emphasize the part about ‘knowing,’ and embodying that knowing? You should know that I see you as an exceptionally honest person, Swordsman Yan.”

But Yan didn’t think he was exceptionally honest. In fact, he’d just committed a lie of omission several minutes ago.

Observing him, Qingran laughed again.

 “Would you believe my words more if I also told you a flaw I’ve noticed about you?” 

He patted Yan on the shoulder.

“Swordsman Yan, you’re bad at lying. Whenever you lie, you have a habit of touching your neck and averting your eyes. It’s quite interesting.”

“Looks like I can’t hide anything from you,” Yan sighed.

Only Mu Qingran could notice someone lying and then praise them for being honest.

By now, the moon hung high above the canopy. Staring into the curve of that crescent, Yan could feel the brush of its cold pallor against his nape as the leaves rustled. He shivered.

“It’s getting late. Best we get some rest. You think the others will be concerned we’ve been gone for so long?”

Two men headed off into the wood and never came back. That sounded like a perfect setup to a horror story.

Qingran waved his hand. “Sir Liu left for a whole hour during dinner time. We’ll be fine.”

A whole hour for a bathroom break? Yan inferred. He stepped through the underbrush with a great deal more caution after hearing that. Who knew if this Sir Liu followed the proper etiquette for relieving himself in the wild? The people of Jianghu were a varied lot, as Yan’s personal experiences could attest.

The camp felt warmer in the presence of the other mercenaries, whose snores eased into the relentless song of the crickets. Someone’s stomach rumbled from time to time, and their straw cape rustled when they tossed and turned beneath it, sighing as they did so.

The old priest remained on his tree stump. Yan couldn’t be sure if he was asleep, but that was also the case for many of the elderly he’d seen. None of them snored. They looked just the same in sleep as they did in meditation, and both bore a striking similarity to peaceful death. When he was very young, before he’d trained enough to sense the living presence of others, he’d approached his grandpa's daybed during the tail ends of their afternoon naps, always with the vague trepidation that his only relative in this world might have suddenly passed away.

Yan sat himself against a dry tree trunk and shut his eyes.  

Tomorrow couldn’t come sooner.