Shangjing

The mare’s hooves went clatter-clatter-clatter. Li Huowang’s cart, escorted by shoulder poles and wheelbarrows, drew closer to the most solemn and most magnificent city of Great Liang—Shangjing.

Bai Lingmiao sat cross-legged on the roof of the cart. She raised her head and took in the walls of the thousand-year-old city in the distance.

The thick black fortifications rose like a chain of low mountains. Speckled moss across the ramparts testified to Shangjing’s weathered age.

“So this is Shangjing? It really is something else.” Bai Lingmiao studied the largest city in all the Four Seas and Eight Wastes, a lively interest in her voice.

Li Huowang, leading the horse by the bridle, stood up, reached up, and lifted her down. He then untied the ribbon from her wrist and wrapped it around her eyes. “Looking in daylight like that will strain your eyes.”

This was the headquarters of the Supervisory Heavenly Office. If he hadn’t acquired that black spindle recently, Li Huowang wasn’t sure he would have dared to come.

Bai Lingmiao looked a little irritated by his gesture, but she didn’t tear the ribbon off in the end.

She shifted her hips and plopped down into Li Huowang’s lap. Then she stretched her arms out wide and gave a long, lazy yawn. “These two useless eyeballs of mine—one of these days, I’m going to swap them out!”

Li Huowang grabbed her restless limbs and stilled them. “Don’t talk nonsense. We’re about to enter the city. Steady yourself.”

Mingling with the stream of townsfolk entering the gate, Li Huowang soon reached the city entrance. The guards took one look at his coffin-like carriage—their eyes weren’t that bad—and knew something was off.

But when they saw the Office token in Li Huowang’s hand, they waved him through without a word.

Li Huowang silently thanked his earlier decision to join the Supervisory Heavenly Office. Without it, getting in and out of cities would have cost him no end of trouble.

The moment they passed the gate, a sea of human heads stretched before them, unbroken all the way to the hazy silhouette of a drum tower in the distance.

“Let’s find someplace to stay first.” Li Huowang flicked the reins, and the cart horse moved forward with the crowd.

The red sunset spilled across blue tiles and crimson walls. Eaves jutted out at sudden angles; shop banners hung high; crowds and carts and oxcarts flowed without pause—every detail reflected the flourishing strength of Great Liang.

The place looked much like Yinling City on the surface, but anyone could tell the two were different.

If he had to put it in one word, it would be depth. After all, Shangjing was one of the legacies left behind by the former Great Qi Empire.

As Li Huowang sized up the capital of Great Liang, the flow of people around him quickened, shoving and pressing toward a street to the left. Excitement lit every face, as if they were anticipating something.

Li Huowang’s cart followed the crowd until it arrived at an open crossroads. Three white towers, each several zhang tall, rose in the middle. A circle of bare-chested young men surrounded them, cloth sacks in hand, eager to begin.

Just as Li Huowang wondered what this was about, a short man stepped into plain view in front of everyone. He carried a large bronze gong strapped to his back, which made him look like a turtle—funny, pathetic.

Ignoring the laughter from the crowd, the dwarf raised three incense sticks and bowed toward the three white towers.

“Are the people of Shangjing paying respects to something?” A flicker of doubt crossed Li Huowang’s mind. But then again, in this mad world, nothing seemed too strange.

While he was still puzzled, the dwarf took the bronze gong off his back, struck it hard, and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Seize the Bun Mountain! ”

The cry rang out. In a single surge, the young men clutching cloth sacks charged the three towers.

They climbed hand and foot, snatching things from the towers and stuffing them into their bags.

“Hm?” Li Huowang’s pupils contracted as he focused on the three white towers. Only then did he realize the white wasn’t plaster—it was made of buns stacked together, each the size of a human head.

As bodies swarmed, the three bun mountains slowly turned into three writhing mountains of human flesh. People on the towers grabbed and pulled at each other, built human ladders, blocked rivals from climbing higher.

All of them were young. The fighting grew hot. The commotion escalated, and buns flew in all directions like scattered petals.

Many of the falling buns were snatched up by onlookers. Many more landed in the horse and cow manure underfoot and mixed with the filth.

Mantou, who had been huddled under the cart, poked his head out, grabbed a round white bun that had rolled his way, pinned it with his front paws, and gnawed at it with gusto. The big red character printed on the bun’s face read longevity.

Bai Lingmiao watched the wasted food on the ground and said, a hint of mockery in her voice, “Oh, haha. Shangjing folk really are something special. They can waste white-flour buns like this. Back where I’m from, you wouldn’t even see this on New Year’s.”

But Li Huowang’s focus was elsewhere. “Doesn’t it look like three incense sticks to you? I think this ritual is meant to honor something.”

“Honor who? Don’t overthink it.”

Li Huowang glanced at the crowd around him and said nothing else. He gave the reins a gentle tug, and the cart slowly turned, squeezing through the crowd and heading onward.

With the city crowd so thick and the streets unfamiliar, it wasn’t until the sun had fully set that Li Huowang finally found a suitable inn.

The inn looked quite upscale—there was even a stage set up in the middle of the main hall to draw in customers.

People eating and drinking tea watched the performance with great interest. Even Bai Lingmiao’s white hair didn’t draw many stares when she walked in.

Seeing new customers, a waiter with a white towel draped over his shoulder hurried over, plastered on a smile, and asked, “What would you like, honored guests?”

“Some seasonal vegetables, and two meat dishes.”

“Right away, good sirs. Wait just a moment, it’ll come shortly.”

Once the waiter left, Li Huowang placed the two swords he had been carrying on the table and felt a wave of relief. “After dinner, you rest here at the inn. I’m going to find the Chief Recorder.”

“Why are you going to find that old eunuch? Maybe I can help.” Li Huowang looked at Bai Lingmiao, who was sprawled across the table, and patted her head without offering an explanation.

“Fine, fine, fine. You’re the head of this household. You have the final word. No need to discuss anything with me.” Bai Lingmiao turned her head away.

They fell silent, waiting for the waiter to bring the food.

When the dishes arrived, Li Huowang set some aside for Mantou first, then he and Bai Lingmiao began to eat.

Whether it was because the long journey had left him exhausted or because the inn’s cooking was genuinely good, Li Huowang had an unusually strong appetite.

Accompanied by the wavering, nasal singing coming from the stage, he quickly filled his stomach.

Just then, one of the actors on stage began to move through the patrons in character, singing and interacting as he went.

Singing and circling, the actor eventually made his way to Li Huowang. Seeing Li Huowang’s indifferent expression, the man clearly wasn’t satisfied and decided to pull out a stunt.

He leaned in close to Li Huowang, then gave his head a sharp shake. In an instant, the old-sheng makeup on his face was replaced by a dan. Another roll of the arm and a drop of the hand, and the dan became a xiaosheng.

Just as he was waiting in smug anticipation of the patrons’ amazement, he felt a cold sensation against his throat—a longsword was pressed to it.

Then he saw a face twisted beyond recognition. “What face-changing are you doing?! Who told you to change faces?! ”