Chapter 3: Home

Yan Shixu asked, "What is it?"

Magistrate Yang did not answer directly, instead asking a question of his own. "Do you know the history of the Mingzong Jade Disc?"

*If I knew, you’d probably have to kill me,* Yan Shixu thought, shaking his head.

Magistrate Yang began to speak with ease. "In the sixth year of the Tianyuan era, the Kingdom of Tianling sent envoys to the Great Sheng to present Emperor Mingzong with a rare piece of jade. Mingzong was delighted. At the time, he was over fifty years old and beginning to feel the frailty of his body and spirit. He often lamented the fleeting nature of time and the difficulty of holding onto his years. Thus, he ordered master craftsmen to fashion the jade into a sundial, symbolizing his desire to seize the day, keep time, and preserve his youth in an eternal spring."

Yan Shixu listened intently; this was truly news to him.

"Later, when the Three Prefectures rose in rebellion, Mingzong was forced to flee Chang'an. Before leaving, he split the sundial in two. He gave the base to the State Preceptor and took the face with him. According to the Bureau of Investigation's intelligence, the State Preceptor bestowed the base upon a Grand Scholar of the Academy of Daoist Studies. Today, it is sealed within the Treasure Pavilion." Magistrate Yang looked deep into his eyes. "The jade disc you stole tonight is that sundial’s face."

Yan Shixu felt a chill in his heart. This was another detail he hadn't known.

When Mingzong fled Chang'an, he had deliberately split the sundial, leaving half with the State Preceptor and taking the other half. Now, both the Bureau of Investigation and his Master wanted it. This Mingzong-era jade piece was clearly no simple artifact.

He tested the waters. "So, the Magistrate wants me to enter the Academy of Daoist Studies and steal the Mingzong Sundial?"

"Exactly."

"How am I supposed to get into the Academy?"

"The Academy only accepts the sons of scholars and farmers. Your background poses no issue, but you lack the guarantee bonds from the Eastern Capital Prefecture and the local gentry. I will have those prepared for you."

Yan Shixu felt something was off and feigned distress. "But I’ve lost my memory. If I pretend to be a student to enter the Academy, I’m afraid I'll be exposed."

In terms of scholarship, the Bureau of Investigation had plenty of students they could command. In terms of skill, they had even more experts. Why choose an amnesiac like him?

In such situations, a task was either incredibly simple or incredibly difficult—so difficult that they used expendable lives to test the waters. But would they give a simple task to a "death row prisoner"? Was it really because he was a descendant of the Yan family that they were showing him mercy?

Yan Shixu didn't believe it for a second.

Magistrate Yang stood with his hands behind his back, eyeing him. "I have already prepared the Four Classics of Daoism for you. Study them well once you return. Do not worry about anything else; simply wait for the Academy to begin its recruitment."

Yan Shixu wanted to say more, but Magistrate Yang had already turned to leave.

***

At the second point of the fifth watch, the morning drums began to beat.

Yan Shixu had changed his outer robes and was carrying a coarse cloth bundle. After asking for directions several times along the way, he finally returned to Ningyang Ward.

The gate of Ningyang Ward stood four meters high, coated in anti-corrosive tung oil with a plaque hanging above it, looking like a miniature city gate.

A crowd of refugees swarmed outside the gate, some begging in rags, others trying to sell their children. They were all skin and bones, their eyes dull and vacant, yet whenever someone passed by, their eyes would light up with a desperate green glint as they rushed forward.

As soon as Yan Shixu reached the gate, they crowded him.

"Young master, have mercy! I haven't eaten in three days."

"Young master, please look at my daughter. Only one string of cash."

The little girl, who had a sprig of grass tucked in her hair as a sign she was for sale, looked sickly. Her eyes were cloudy; it was obvious she didn't have many days left to live.

At the end of last autumn, when the Chengzhao Army attacked, the Garrison Commander of the Eastern Capital had implemented a scorched-earth policy, moving all the surrounding villagers into the city. These people had been in the city for less than a year, but the local nobility and wealthy households had used every method imaginable to bleed them dry of their money.

At first, they could survive on the government's disaster relief porridge. But after the canal transport was cut off, the government porridge became so thin you could see your own reflection in it. Now, they could only sell their children or beg to survive.

Yan Shixu felt his pockets. Having just come out of prison, his pockets were cleaner than his face. He sighed inwardly, avoided the refugees, and entered Ningyang Ward. Behind him, the refugees were blocked by the gate guards.

Stepping through the gate, he found himself amidst a sea of people. Shops lined both sides of the wide main street, and street vendors shouted their wares. The vibrant bustle of the city hit him instantly.

"Sesame flatbread! Fresh from the oven!"

"Mint! Fresh mint..."

"Steamed buns for sale!"

"Fortune telling and character reading! Honest prices for young and old! Only ten coins! Only ten coins!"

Yan Shixu couldn't help but look back. A single gate separated two entirely different worlds.

He intentionally sought out an acquaintance to ask for the exact location of his home. Under the man's confused gaze, he walked toward his house.

The cross-streets divided Ningyang Ward into four quadrants. The Yan family blacksmith shop was located in the northern quarter, close to the main thoroughfare. Most businesses in the ward were located along the main road to catch the heavy foot traffic. A blacksmith shop didn't need a storefront, however, so it was tucked away in an alley behind the main street.

*Creak—*

Yan Shixu pushed open the half-closed courtyard gate and stepped over the threshold.

It was a small compound with buildings on three sides. Yan Shixu lived in the main house. His brother-in-law, who was rarely home, lived in the eastern room next to the kitchen. The western room was a storehouse used for equipment. To the left of the courtyard gate was a crude thatched shed that served as the blacksmith's workshop.

The blacksmith shop was his sister's legacy. His late sister had been a skilled metallurgist and carpenter. Hammer stroke by hammer stroke, she had raised Yan Shixu until he was eleven. After she passed away, his brother-in-law had taken over, raising him hammer stroke by hammer stroke in her stead.

His brother-in-law had originally been a wandering Daoist priest who practiced in the south. Later, he wandered to the Eastern Capital and, after falling in love, married his sister.

After his sister died, the shop's business plummeted. His brother-in-law, a mere dabbler, couldn't forge fine blades or jewelry. He could only make farm tools or help the neighbors with odd jobs like repairing scissors, kitchen knives, and furniture.

When the Chengzhao Army attacked last year, the war dragged on to this day. The commoners had missed the spring planting, and the market for farm tools had dried up as well. Out of necessity, his brother-in-law had donned his Daoist robes again, left what money he had for Yan Shixu, and gone to seek lodging at a Daoist temple.

Before leaving, he had complained incessantly.

"Your sister was a woman of short hair and shorter sight! Back then, an ordination certificate cost sixty strings of cash. I wanted to pay for yours so you could be exempt from taxes and labor service, and eat for free at a temple. She refused, saying she wanted you to stay and carry on the Yan family name. Look at us now—an ordination certificate has gone up to two hundred strings!"

His mind wandering through these memories, Yan Shixu entered the main house.

The room was a mess. Storage chests were overturned, and winter clothes and bedding were strewn across the floor. The five strings of cash and three bolts of silk hidden inside were gone. That had been all the liquid assets the family owned.

"Those Bureau dogs, those sons of bitches..." Yan Shixu gripped a worm-eaten pillar, gritting his teeth.

The price of rice in the Eastern Capital was rising every day, and the government's taxes were becoming more oppressive. His already poor household had been struck by a new disaster. Having not had a drop of water all night, his stomach churned with acid. He walked toward the kitchen, cursing under his breath.

The walls and beams of the kitchen were blackened from years of smoke. Several hemp ropes hung from the beams; they should have held cured meat, but it was gone now. The rice and flour had also been looted. Only a shallow layer of millet remained in the ceramic vat.

"Those brutes!"

Fortunately, there were still some vegetables in the kitchen: mallow, leeks, and cabbage.

Food in the Great Sheng dynasty was primarily steamed or boiled. They used cauldrons for the former and steamers for the latter, lacking the large iron woks of later generations.

Yan Shixu boiled a pot of vegetable porridge, sprinkled in some coarse salt, and sat on a small stool in the courtyard, slurping from a ceramic bowl.

After three large bowls of thin porridge, his stomach felt full, but he felt no satisfaction. This body was strong and sturdy; this meager amount of carbohydrates was nowhere near enough, and there was no meat.

Sitting in the shade beneath the eaves, he sipped his porridge while contemplating his situation.

The Academy of Daoist Studies was a government office. With the Bureau of Investigation's power, they could have simply demanded what they wanted. Even if that failed, there should have been room for negotiation between government departments. Magistrate Yang’s choice to steal it suggested that negotiation was not an option.

The fact that they hadn't chosen a more suitable candidate to infiltrate the Academy and instead sent a "death row prisoner" meant the mission was extremely dangerous.

"So, I’m just fodder to fill a gap... I have to find a way to contact Master and let him know I'm alive."

The old scholar had told him to steal the Mingzong Jade Disc; he surely possessed more information.

But another problem lay before him. He hadn't noticed anyone tailing him on his way back. However, Magistrate Yang wouldn't just let him out of his sight. There had to be someone watching from the shadows.

He was certain of this, which was why he had been cautious on his way home, maintaining his "amnesiac" persona. If he couldn't detect the tracker, going to see the old scholar now would make him the ultimate "idiot teammate."

"However, even if it's inconvenient for me to see Master, I can make him come to see me," Yan Shixu quickly decided.

The old scholar was experienced and highly capable; he might be able to spot the tracker. Even if they were exposed, he could explain it away as his old organization's associates finding out he wasn't dead and coming to test him. By staying in a passive position, he could clear himself of suspicion.

Once he had a plan, Yan Shixu calmed down.

***

The following morning.

Yan Shixu woke to the sound of drums. Carrying a wooden basin, he went into the courtyard, uncovered the water vat, and began to wash.

The commoners of the Great Sheng used willow branches to brush their teeth. Willow was bitter, and the raw fibers were extremely damaging to the gums and teeth. Yan Shixu used a hog-bristle toothbrush. These were complicated to make and expensive to buy, usually reserved for the wealthy. Yan Shixu had made his own.

He crushed some large grains of salt and added a pinch of tea powder, managing to scrub his teeth clean. Then, he shouldered his wooden tool chest and headed out.

The blacksmith shop was near the main road. After crossing one alley, he reached the bustling commercial street, filled with shops and a never-ending stream of street vendors.

Yan Shixu smelled the sweet aroma of pastries and the richness of sesame oil in the air. He walked out of the alley and "aimlessly" wandered toward a shop named "Tang’s" that sold noodle flake soup. He silently slowed his pace.

Soon, a crisp voice called out from the shop: "Brother Yan! Brother Yan!"

Yan Shixu turned to look. A young girl stepped out from under a fabric banner, standing gracefully as she waved to him with excitement.

The girl was about fifteen, wearing a plain, narrow-sleeved top covered by an orange short-sleeved tunic, with an apron tied around her waist. She had striking foreign features—a high-bridged nose, deep-set eyes, and vivid facial features. Her pale gray eyes shimmered with an exotic charm.