To Embers We Return — Chapter 41
***
When Shen Ni reached the main entrance, she saw a woman clad in a round-collar robe of roughspun cloth tugging forcefully at Bian Jin’s sleeve. Between sobs, the woman was lamenting how wretched her life had been since she’d lost her husband. Her pretty face was twisted into a hideous snarl.
The woman seemed rather unsteady on her feet. Her knees buckled, and she pulled even more violently at Bian Jin’s sleeve, as if trying to drag the latter down to the ground with her. No matter how hard she tugged, however, Bian Jin remained steadily on her feet, as upright and immovable as a deep-rooted cedar tree.
‘My memory module has been damaged, so I’ve lost all my memories of the last three years,’ Bian Jin told her with perfect honesty. ‘I do not remember how your husband died.’
The woman clearly did not believe her. ‘How could you have forgotten?’ she demanded, her eyes wide with anger. ‘My husband told me so many times how learned and clever you were. “Governor-General Bian can look at a page just once and remember it perfectly,” he said. A full-grown man died in front of your very eyes, and now you’re telling me you can’t remember how it happened? I hear it was only your spine that was injured — what’s that got to do with your memory module? How could you have lost your memory all of a sudden? Are you just making excuses to try to escape punishment for your treason? How could you be so heartless?’
She had a death grip on Bian Jin’s sleeve, clutching it so hard that her fist was trembling; her knuckles had whitened around the fabric. The soft pale material was crumpled and stained, and even Shen Ni could not help wrinkling her brow at the sight.
Bian Jin, who so abhorred dirt, could easily have thrown this troublesome woman out of the building. But she did not. Instead she said, ‘I’m doing all I can to have my memory module restored. If I ever do remember what happened to your husband, I’ll give you a full and honest accounting of the matter.’
Her calm, mild demeanour made the other woman’s histrionics seem even more unreasonable by contrast.
The woman paused for a moment, staring off in a particular direction. That tiny detail did not escape Bian Jin’s notice.
Suddenly, the woman threw back her head and let out a heart-rending wail. The few officials on duty at Lantai today came rushing to the entrance to see what was going on. Even the passersby who happened to be walking past Lantai stopped in their tracks and peered inside.
The more people crowded around her, the longer and louder the woman’s howls became.
‘Oh, my poor husband! He followed you so faithfully into battle, and now his bones lie unburied in some faraway land. One million soldiers met their deaths under your command, yet somehow you managed to survive? How did that happen? Why didn’t you die in the north with them? Oh, my husband, my poor husband—’
‘I hear the relationship between you and your husband broke down quite some years ago,’ came a new voice, cutting off Madam Zhou’s exaggerated cries. ‘You had been living separately for more than a year before he went to the front lines. Yet you still came here today to demand justice on his behalf. Should I commend you for the steadfastness of your feelings, Madam Zhou, or did you get you head caught in the door when you came in?’
Tears were still clinging to the corners of Madam Zhou’s eyes. Somewhat thrown by the intrusion, she opened them to look at the woman now standing beside Bian Jin.
The newcomer was clad in striking crimson robes, and even more striking was the pure loveliness of her face, untainted by any trace of the sordidness of the world. She stood bathed in the sunlight, tall and young and beautiful. The old, weather-beaten building she stood within seemed even more dull and lifeless in contrast.
Madam Zhou was instantly on full alert. ‘And you are…?’ she asked.
‘You want to know who I am and how I know so much about you, don’t you?’
Madam Zhou, who had been completely in her element just moments ago, found herself tensing up.
Shen Ni drew out her battlestaff and slid one end of it under Madam Zhou’s wrist, trying to prise her hand from Bian Jin’s sleeve. When Madam Zhou continued clinging on, Shen Ni flicked on a hidden switch, sending an electrical current coursing through its length. With a shriek, Madam Zhou let go.
Shen Ni stepped forward, placing herself between Bian Jin and Madam Zhou.
‘I’m Bian Jin’s wife, as well as her shimei from Shuangji Hall,’ she said. ‘You’re older now, Madam Zhou, so some things may have slipped your mind, but that’s all right — I can remind you of them. When your husband Qi Teng enlisted under my wife’s command, I was the one who helped draw up his recruitment papers. One of my tasks was to record the details of each soldier’s family.’
Madam Zhou had recognised Shen Ni immediately as the much talked-about rising star at court, but had not connected her to Bian Jin’s impish little shimei from Shuangji Hall. Now that Shen Ni had brought it up herself, Madam Zhou remembered. Shen Ni was indeed the one who’d drawn up Qi Teng’s enlistment papers. When her husband had still been alive, the two of them had fought often, but there had still been times when they were on amicable terms. During one of these times, she’d gone with her husband to bring some gifts to Shuangji Hall, as well as a proposal of marriage from one of Bian Jin’s suitors. She recalled then that there had been a little girl standing at the back of the crowd, staring at her with preternaturally sharp eyes. That must have been Shen Ni.
As a street vendor, Madam Zhou always kept her wits about her; she was used to confrontations with customers, officials, and even passersby. Her mind whirled furiously, and she seized instantly on the implausibility of what Shen Ni had just said.
‘Even if you did draw up his enlistment papers, what of it? There were a million soldiers in that army, and my husband was only an infantryman. How could you possibly remember something as unimportant as that? Don’t tell me you found it worth writing into your memory module, so that you could look it up at your leisure!’
Madam Zhou turned to the assembled onlookers. ‘Don’t listen to her lies!’ She shouted. ‘My husband and I were a loving, devoted couple!’
Bian Jin was watching Shen Ni closely, so she saw the joy blossoming in her shimei’s eyes — that of a hunter seeing her prey fall into the snare that had been laid for it. She’d clearly been waiting for Madam Zhou to say those very words.
Madam Zhou’s heart went thump when she caught sight of Shen Ni’s expression. She felt as though she’d walked into some sort of trap, but could not think what that might be.
And then she noticed that Shen Ni’s hands were moving a little oddly. With her right forefinger, Shen Ni was tapping away at the holographic keyboard that she had, at some point, begun projecting from her watch.
Suddenly, Madam Zhou felt a strange, slight pain in her chest, as if something were trying to pry her heart open. A wave of nausea swept over her. She clutched at her chest, opening her mouth to ask Shen Ni, ‘What have you done to me?’
Instead of those words, however, a peal of rather foolish laughter rang out from her lips instead. Mortified and bewildered, Madam Zhou clamped a hand over her mouth.
‘Why are you covering your mouth?’ Shen Ni chided. ‘You won’t be able to breathe properly. You should stop doing that.’
She tapped lightly at her keyboard again, and Madam Zhou’s hand began trembling uncontrollably. Bit by bit, it lowered itself in obedience to Shen Ni’s command.
Madam Zhou stared at Shen Ni, looking as terrified as if she’d seen a ghost.
‘You claim that you and your husband were a loving, devoted couple?’ Shen Ni went on. ‘Then you must have many happy memories of your time together.’
Shen Ni’s finger danced lightly across the keyboard. Suddenly a video projected itself across the huge blank wall just beside the main doors, and began to play.
It was a recording from Madam Zhou’s memory module. In it, she snatched up a vase from her table and flung it at a man who must be her husband Qi Teng. Qi Teng, clearly drunk, was gripping a handful of Madam Zhou’s long hair. He was too befuddled to dodge, so the vase struck him squarely on the hand and smashed into pieces. Blood began streaming down his face.
‘You worthless swine!’ screamed Madam Zhou in the recording. ‘Why did you even come home? Couldn’t you have the decency to drink yourself to death outside?’
Qi Teng was clutching his skull. ‘This is my home,’ he said menacingly, jabbing a finger at her. ‘I can come back here any time I please!’
‘Oh? Oh? Now you’ve finally realised it’s your home, have you? Tell me, what have you ever done for us as a family?’
‘You say I’ve never done anything for our family? Then what about you? All that money you say you earned? We both know you stole it!’
The two of them went on tussling with each other, shouting curses as they did.
Gasps and murmurs rose from the onlookers. Frantically, Madam Zhou patted her hands over her body, trying to block whatever the source of the projection was, but to no avail. The recording played on and on. In desperation she shouted, ‘Stop it! I’m telling you, stop it now!’
A second recording began to play.
It was from the day Madam Zhou received formal notification of Qi Teng’s death in the north. She feigned grief in front of the messenger, weeping and dabbing away non-existent tears from her bone-dry eyes. As soon as she returned home, however, she brought out several jars of wine she’d been hoarding for quite some time, and she and her lover drank themselves into a gleeful stupor.
In the recording, Madam Zhou curled herself up in her lover’s lap, and said archly, ‘That old fool died at exactly the right time. We’d only just taken a fancy to that house in Yongning Ward, and now he’s gone and kicked the bucket, handing us a pile of silver.’
Her lover, a rather foppish-looking man, leaned down and kissed her noisily. ‘Maybe Heaven was moved by how many times you curse his name every night.’
The two of them began kissing and groping each other with renewed ardour. Sniggers burst from the watching crowd.
Bian Jin gave Shen Ni a meaningful stare, then turned pointedly away from the projection. She had no wish to sully her eyes with such a sight.
Madam Zhou rushed up to the wall and stood in front of the projection, her arms outstretched. ‘Don’t look!’ she yelled. ‘Stop looking!’
Shen Ni, seeing Bian Jin’s displeasure, immediately stopped the projection. Madam Zhou pointed at her. ‘You! How dare you hack into my memory module? That’s a violation of my privacy. It’s against the law!’
‘Report me to the constabulary then,’ said Shen Ni. ‘The maximum punishment is just three days’ detention and a fine of two hundred taels.’
Madam Zhou was left speechless. She’d never seen anyone with such a flagrant disregard for the law in her life.
‘Should I help you make the report?’ asked Shen Ni, twirling her battlestaff idly.
Madam Zhou had already tasted the might of that battlestaff, so she did not dare say anything more, especially since Shen Ni was beginning to seem more and more sinister with every passing moment. She began backing away, trying to get as far from Shen Ni as possible.
Shen Ni, however, was no longer paying attention to her. Instead, she was looking upwards and slightly to the side, at the roof of the building.
‘Though it seems there’s no need for either of us to go to all that trouble,’ she said. ‘Most fortuitously, General Li Si of the Jinwu Guards happens to be here. Why don’t we ask her to adjudicate on the matter?’
Li Si, who had been crouching on the roof this whole time, observing the proceedings, felt her heart clench when Shen Ni said her name.
She was also a machinist, though not one with a particularly high Talent. But she knew enough to tell that what Shen Ni had just done was no small feat: she’d managed to hack into Madam Zhou’s memory module with only a consumer-grade digital watch, and without using any physical connectors. No wonder people spoke of her as a rare prodigy, the kind that only came along every century or so. Before this, Li Si had not really believed them. She’d thought it more likely that Shen Ni was talking up her military achievements to make herself seem a genius. But now that she’d seen Shen Ni in action, she realised the full extent of the other woman’s Talent.
The fact that Shen Ni had discovered her made things very awkward. If she were to reveal herself now, that would be tantamount to admitting that she’d been spying on them from the roof like some common thief. She would look both suspicious and completely ridiculous. So many townsfolk and Lantai officials were watching on — how was she to show her face after that? She was the general of the Jinwu Guards after all, entrusted with the safety and defence of the whole of Chang’an!
But if she stayed in her hiding place, on the other hand…
Shen Ni spoke up again to chivvy her along. ‘What’s the matter, General Li? Madam Zhou is waiting for you to dispense justice. If you don’t come out, I’m going to play the another recording.’
You’re threatening me? thought Li Si. In front of all these people?
Before Shen Ni could make good on her threat, and before Madam Zhou could speak, Li Si stood up from the roof. She coughed. ‘Wait.’
Madam Zhou let out a small sigh of relief when she saw Li Si emerge from her hiding place.
Li Si leapt gracefully down onto the ground. The onlookers eyed her doubtfully.
‘Why would the general of the Jinwu Guards be hiding on the roof?’ asked one in a loud whisper.
‘And why was Marquess Jing’an able to intimidate her into coming down with just a few words?’ replied another.
Li Si, angry and embarrassed, began dispersing the crowd. ‘I’m in the midst of an active investigation,’ she snapped. ‘Those of you who have no business here should leave immediately.’
And so saying, she strode through the front doors of Lantai and slammed them shut in the townsfolk’s faces. Then she glared at the Lantai officials who were clustered just inside the entrance. The officials were all aware of Li Si’s reputation, and knew full well how unpleasant she could make life for them if they defied her. So they dispersed rather resentfully to their respective tasks, each with a bellyful of unanswered questions.
And now only Li Si, Shen Ni and Bian Jin remained. Madam Zhou had slipped away in the confusion, and no one had tried to stop her. All three of them knew perfectly well that Madam Zhou was only a pawn.
At first, Bian Jin and Shen Ni had thought she’d been sent by Li Ruoyuan, until they discovered Li Si hiding on the roof.
Li Si was the General of the Jinwu Guards, and no matter how she felt about the Ruifeng Battalion personally, they had still been one of the companies under her command. She was the one who’d given them the order to escort Liu Ji’s family out of the city. It was impossible for her to turn a blind eye to their deaths.
So she’d sent Madam Zhou to confront Bian Jin, precisely to see how Bian Jin would deal with her. Not that she expected Bian Jin to kill the other woman right there and then, of course, but if Bian Jin did raise a hand against Madam Zhou, she would reveal something of her fighting style. After examining the Ruifeng Battalion’s bodies, Li Si had a fairly good idea of the mysterious killer’s technique. If Bian Jin were to strike, she was sure she would be able to tell if there were any similarities.
Unexpectedly, however, Bian Jin had simply allowed the other woman to rail at her, without lifting even a single finger in retaliation.
Bian Jin was no mild-mannered soul. As Governor-General of the North, she’d kept her troops in strict order, laying down the law with an iron fist. That took no small measure of steeliness. It was at that point when Li Si began suspecting Bian Jin of having guessed that Madam Zhou was acting under someone else’s orders. What she hadn’t expected, however, was that Shen Ni would be audacious enough to identify her by name.
Shen Ni cupped her hands before her in a careless greeting. ‘We meet again, general.’
”Quite against my wishes,’ said Li Si tightly. ‘You were the one who forced me to show myself.’
‘”Force” is much too harsh a word, isn’t it, general?’ Shen Ni objected mildly. ‘I merely said a few words, that’s all.’
‘And if I hadn’t shown myself?’ Li Si demanded.
Shen Ni answered quite frankly. ‘Then everyone would have seen another one of Madam Zhou’s memories — specifically, the one of you bribing her to stage a confrontation with my shijie. To me, that’s no different from them seeing in you the flesh.’
Li Si’s gaze sharpened. ‘You—’
‘Imagine: the scene of you paying Madam Zhou to provoke my shijie into an outburst, played out by Lantai’s entrance for all to see.’ Shen Ni smiled beatifically. ‘If that had happened, general, I wonder what you would have done next? Arrested me on the spot and brought me back to your headquarters for questioning? Or would you have turned yourself in at the constabulary? After all, an official who deliberately flouts the law is doubly culpable, don’t you think?’
Of course. Li Si gnawed the inside of her cheek. Of course Shen Ni was exactly as devious as she’d imagined. And also… When it comes to culpability, Shen Ni, you’re no slouch yourself.
Not wishing to entangle herself further in a battle of words with Shen Ni, Li Si turned to Bian Jin. After all, what she truly wanted was to resolve the lingering doubts in her mind. It was why she’d gone to these lengths in the first place.
‘Archive Clerk Bian,’ she said, ‘I’m sure you must have heard the news. All two hundred soldiers of the Ruifeng Battalion perished recently in the line of duty outside the city walls. As the only SS-tier warrior in the whole of the empire, how do you think this could have happened?’
Where Shen Ni was as cunning as a fox, Bian Jin was as guarded as a heavily fortified city wall; there was not a single crack in her facade.
Li Si might have been elevated to the rank of general before the age of thirty, and she might be one of the military’s young, rising stars. As an interrogator, however, Bian Jin found her to be decidedly unseasoned. Her technique left much to be desired.
Bian Jin countered with a question of her own. ‘Are you questioning me formally, general, or are you merely asking for my help? If the former, would you please show me your warrant of arrest? If the latter, it rather depends on my mood, doesn’t it?’
The corner of Li Si’s mouth twitched. She went on. ‘Where were you on the twentieth day of the first month at the hour of Yin?[1] What were you doing? And were there any witnesses? If you do not or cannot account for your movements, I’m going straight to the constabulary to draw up a warrant for your arrest — it won’t take much time. I must warn you, however, that if I’m forced to do so, I won’t be as pleasant or easy to deal with as I am now.’
That was when the Ruifeng Battalion had met their deaths — on the twentieth day of the first month at the hour of Yin.
‘There was an auction of artifacts recovered from the twelve northern provinces that morning,’ said Bian Jin. ‘That’s where I was.’
‘An auction? So early in the morning?’
‘As the commander of the Jinwu Guards, General Li, I’m sure you’re aware that there are such things as midnight auctions. Their aim is to get customers to spend as much as possible. Plenty of fine wine is served, to loosen customers’ inhibitions enough to make them bid thousands of taels on a single lot. The auction I’m speaking of began at the hour of Zi.[2] By the time I arrived, it was already quite late, as these things go.’
Bian Jin had indeed gone to the auction, and had bid successfully on a pair of weapons belonging to two fallen soldiers under her command. The weapons had been heavily damaged, and the starting bid had been set at only a hundred taels of silver. Anyone else looking at them would see no more than two hunks of scrap metal. But to Bian Jin, they were tremendously meaningful objects, so she’d bought them both.
A knowing smile spread across Li Si’s face. ‘I’ve already reviewed the surveillance footage from the auction. You were there, Archive Clerk Bian, just as you said.’
Something flashed briefly in Shen Ni’s eyes. So Li Si was trying to draw Bian Jin out, encouraging her to say as much as possible, in order to see if there were any gaps in her story.
Li Si had clearly come prepared for this particular confrontation. Bian Jin had guessed that would be the case, and knew that if she said anything untrue about the auction, Li Si would catch on instantly. So there had been nothing false in her account.
‘But you left the auction after only half an hour,’ Li Si went on, ‘after bidding on two pieces of scrap metal in a very ostentatious fashion. The obvious conclusion is that you were deliberately drawing attention to your presence there, in case anyone decided to look into your whereabouts after the fact.’
At the words ‘scrap metal’, Bian Jin’s gaze turned icy. Li Si, meeting that stare, felt as if some savage beast had locked onto her as its prey. Goosebumps prickled on the back of her neck.
Li Si paused for a moment, her fear warring with the thrill of going up against a powerful opponent. She managed to contain her excitement for the time being, and went on, ‘Can you tell me where you went after that, and why you left in such a hurry? Weren’t you tempted to stay longer, in case other precious items came up on the block?’
The truth of the matter was, after Bian Jin had left the auction that day, she’d run into Zeng Qingluo in the market quarter, and gone with her to visit Diwu Que and He Lanzhuo at Empire House.
Now that she thought back on it, Bian Jin realised could not remember how she’d left the auction. It felt exactly like her temporary loss of consciousness earlier: her memory had been unceremoniously cut off, and by the time she regained consciousness again, she was standing in the market quarter.
The sun had been high in the sky then, that much she could remember, so it must have been close to noon. She’d had her cloak draped over one arm. Her hair was dishevelled, and there had been mud under her shoes. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that, in the time between leaving the auction and turning up in the market quarter, she’d gone out of the city, killed some two hundred soldiers, and made her way back.
This time, Bian Jin’s pause went on for a little longer, though it was still within the bounds of how long it would normally take someone to frame an answer. Li Si remained unsuspecting, but Shen Ni, who knew her so well, had already sensed her hesitation.
She’s not sure what to say, Shen Ni realised. She’s trying to work out how to make her story seamless.
‘After that—’ Bian Jin began.
‘After that,’ Shen Ni broke in, ‘I joined her.’
At the sound of Shen Ni’s voice, Li Si’s temples began throbbing. Here we go again, she thought grimly. She’d never met anyone more maddening than Marquess Jing’an. Out loud, she said, ‘Oh? You met up with her?’
‘Yes. What of it? Is it so strange that I should meet up with my own wife in town?’
‘It’s not strange as such. It’s just that there’s no sign of you anywhere in the surveillance footage.’
Shen Ni did not answer Li Si directly. Instead, she eyed the other woman up and down, her eyes taking on a weighing-and-measuring look.
Li Si shifted uncomfortably. ‘If you have something to say, Marquess Jing’an, just say it.’
‘You have a machinist’s Talent too, don’t you?’
Li Si quirked an eyebrow. ‘And what if I do?’
‘As a machinist, you must be aware of how important privacy is. You would not wish to leave behind any digital traces of your everyday movements, and I’m sure your personal firewall is absolutely secure. You would know that a machinist has ways and means of avoiding surveillance, so my absence from the footage is hardly unusual. A machinist who turns up all the time in Chang’an’s surveillance system, now — that would be very suspicious, and deserving of closer investigation.’
Li Si smiled rather stiffly. ‘Then might I ask where the two of you went after that? What did you do?’
Shen Ni gave Li Si a bashful smile. She slipped her arm through Bian Jin’s, and leaned pliantly against her.
Li Si stared at them, mystified.
By now, Bian Jin could practically smell when Shen Ni was up to something — to say nothing of the fact that she could feel Shen Ni’s soft, enticing curves rubbing up against her arm. In a bid to stop herself from revealing her extraordinary sensitivity towards Shen Ni’s touch to an outsider, she began reciting the Heart Sutra[3] over and over to herself.
Knowing that Bian Jin would be in no state to stop her, Shen Ni cast aside any vestige of restraint she might have had. Quite without shame, she said, ‘You’re still unmarried, aren’t you, General Li? I daresay you’ve never even been in love before. What do you think a married couple does together? What might they want to do together?’
A sudden image flashed across Bian Jin’s mind: that moment in Shen Ni’s workshop, when Shen Ni had leaned forward and almost kissed her.
Shen Ni’s words had struck Li Si squarely in her sore spot. ‘You—’ she began.
‘I’d advise you not to ask why the surveillance system failed to capture any footage of me being intimate with my wife, general,’ said Shen Ni. ‘Unless, of course, you enjoy being a laughingstock.’
‘Shen Ni,’ said Li Si through clenched teeth. ‘If I hacked into your memory module now, and projected the contents on that wall over there, would we all see how much you’ve been lying?’
Shen Ni tucked her head into Bian Jin’s shoulder, looking the very picture of a soft, demure, helpless little wife. ‘You’re welcome to hack into my memory module anytime, general,’ she purred.
If you even can, was the unspoken implication. Not only was there no one in TangPro capable of breaking through her personal firewall, even if her shizun from Shuangji Hall were to come back to life and recruit a hundred Qin Wushangs and a thousand Li Shans to her aid, they would still fail to make even the slightest breach.
There was no way she could beat Shen Ni in an argument, Li Si realised. All she’d done was humiliate herself and allow Shen Ni to muddy the waters even further. Her usual smile was dangerously close to falling off her face. Seething quietly, she turned to leave — then turned back again a moment later.
‘Just one more thing,’ she said to Bian Jin. ‘There’s something I’m curious about. I understand you sought a hefty sum of compensation from the palace for the orphans and surviving spouses of the soldiers who died while under your command. Clearly you care deeply for them, Governor-General Bian. So why have you not visited a single bereaved family since you returned to Chang’an?’
Something rippled in the depths of Shen Ni’s eyes. She glanced surreptitiously at Bian Jin. Bian Jin’s expression was as composed as ever; she seemed completely unmoved.
Li Si chuckled darkly. ‘A guilty conscience, perhaps? Only you would know.’
***
Footnotes:
- In the original text, 寅时 (yin shi). This bi-hour corresponds roughly to 3am – 5am. [return to text]
- In the original text, 子时 (zi shi). This bi-hour corresponds roughly to 11pm – 1am. [return to text]
- In the original text, 般若波罗蜜心经 (pinyin: bore bolumi xinjing). Known in Sanskrit as Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya, this is possibly the most recited and most frequently used and recited text in the Mahayana Buddhist tradition. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 