Chapter Three: The Jade Pendant of the Female Qilin

Before setting out for Chang’an, all affairs at home had to be arranged. Cai Bozhong, loyal and devoted, had served three generations of the Li family; entrusting him with the ancestral house and Qianlong Ridge was the most reassuring choice. Steward Sun was shrewd, efficient, and beyond question in his loyalty—he could be given full authority over the distillery’s operations, both large and small.

As for the others, Aunt Qing and White Mantou had lived with Li Zhao for more than a decade, and were already as close as family. Now that Li Zhao was off to Chang’an to seek his fortune, it was only natural that Qing and White would accompany him. The Stray Rat, a veteran of the underworld with years of experience, was an ideal companion for a long journey. Eight young hunters, skilled and unattached, were selected from Qianlong Ridge to serve as escorts.

Nightshade, of course, had to come along. It was Li Zhao’s shadow, never parted from him, not even in sleep. As for the ten chicks, after over a year of strict training, they’d become fierce fighting cocks, all packed into cages for the journey. It was said that Chang’an teemed with masters of cockfighting—Li Zhao was eager for a match!

With all arrangements made, the party set out for the Laoshui docks. Wuan County was a hundred and fifty li from Chang’an. By water, it would take just two days and a night to reach the city’s outskirts—convenient and far more comfortable than a jolting carriage ride.

…

April twenty-second—the almanac declared it an auspicious day for travel.

Morning—Laoshui Docks.

“Master, I’ve chartered a three-hundred-stone riverboat. The hold is clean and comfortable, and the boat is swift and stable. The captain and crew are stowing supplies; we’ll be ready to set sail in less than half an hour.”

“Excellent. Move all our luggage aboard—leave nothing behind. Watch those ten fighting cocks carefully, don’t let them suffocate.”

“Yes, sir, I understand!”

The Stray Rat bustled off to oversee the boat. Aunt Qing, feeling weary, retreated to the cabin to rest, while the eight guards kept watch.

Li Zhao, never one to sit idle, saw there was still time before departure and took White Mantou and Nightshade to stroll along the docks, eager to see what excitement he might find.

After circling the area without stumbling upon any commotion, he was instead drawn by a melodious zither. Someone was performing at the docks:

Still I recall the years gone by,
Yellow sands swallow the Han’s domain,
Three thousand palaces for one emperor,
Twenty thousand songs, but how many kites remain.
Silent tears streak white fingers,
Chrysanthemums mourn as geese depart, the strings weep,
The breeze softly murmurs old tales,
Last month’s moon rounds anew tonight…

In a corner of the docks sat a youth in white, no more than fourteen or fifteen, slender and sallow-cheeked, playing the famous guzheng piece “Autumn Moon Over the Han Palace.”

Legend held this piece was composed by the renowned beauty, Lady Wang Zhaojun. After years secluded in the palace, unseen by the emperor, sorrow welled within her. On an autumn night, she played this melody beneath the moon to pour out her grief. Yet soon after, Zhaojun saw the futility of wasting away in lonely luxury. She volunteered for a political marriage, journeying beyond the frontier to forge peace with the Xiongnu—thus was born the tale of Zhaojun’s journey beyond the border.

“Hm. The melody is beautiful, but the playing surpasses even that!”

“A pity it’s a lad—if a maiden of sixteen played ‘Autumn Moon Over the Han Palace,’ it would be flawless.”

The notes of the guzheng wound through the air, ethereal and plaintive, transporting listeners to the palace of Han, to autumn’s moonlight, lonely desert smoke, and Zhaojun’s distant journey—all so vivid one could not help but feel sorrow.

When the piece ended, applause erupted. Spectators tossed coins—some a dozen, some three or four—until the ground was strewn with copper.

Beside the youth in white was a girl of eight or nine, in a pink dress with adorable twin buns, her features strikingly similar to the boy’s—clearly siblings. She crouched down, gathering the coins—there must have been two or three hundred—and tucked them into her purse.

…

As a player himself, Li Zhao was well-versed in music, and could not help but admire the boy’s guzheng skills. Without extraordinary talent and over ten years’ hard practice, it was impossible to play so well.

Yet for all his musical prowess, the youth in white was clearly lacking in worldly experience—performing for money in a place as teeming and dangerous as the docks was courting trouble.

And trouble soon arrived—seven or eight local thugs swaggered over, their intentions plain as day.

“Kid, you dare play for money here? You know whose turf this is?”

“Forgive us. My sister and I are just passing through, and spent our last coin. We had no choice but to play at the docks for some travel money. We meant no offense.”

“Pah! I don’t care about your offense. You used the turf, you pay tribute. Hand over ten taels of silver.”

“We’ve played all morning and not even earned a single tael. How could we offer you ten? Please, show mercy and let us go!”

“Pah! No money, then leave the guzheng. Looks valuable—pawnshop’ll pay a fair price.”

“No, the guzheng is my late mother’s keepsake—I can’t give it to you… Ah!”

The thugs were ruthless. Not only did they snatch the girl’s purse, they made for the guzheng as well. The youth shielded his sister and struggled valiantly, but he was young and weak, and quickly overpowered. The guzheng was taken.

Worse yet, the thugs tore at his clothes, intent on searching him for anything else of value. As his shirt was about to be ripped away, the youth, desperate, suddenly bit down hard on the arm of a burly, black-faced thug, refusing to let go until he’d torn off a mouthful of flesh. Blood streamed down.

“Damn brat, you bite like a dog! See if I don’t smash your teeth in!” Roaring with pain and humiliation, the black-faced thug swung a fist at the youth’s nose—a blow that could have left his face a bloody ruin.

At that moment, a hand like yellow jade shot out, catching the fist and holding it fast.

In a flash, a twist and a pull dislocated the thug’s arm, leaving him howling in agony: “Aiyah, it hurts! Who dares—dares—oh, Young Master Zhao, the wind has brought you here!”

“Not the fragrant wind, but a chilly one.”

It was Li Zhao who’d intervened. Recognizing him, the thugs shrank back, bowing and scraping like frightened kittens.

All these thugs had once served under Black Whirlwind Zhang Dayong. They’d seen with their own eyes how their boss was flattened by Li Zhao in a single exchange, losing his life in bewilderment. They’d also watched Li Zhao, with a few clever tricks, unmask a murderer at the county yamen. Li Zhao filled them with dread.

“Return their money and guzheng. If you ever bully the weak at the docks again, I’ll break your legs.”

“Yes, yes, we won’t dare! But, sir, we’re just trying to earn a living…”

“I know you need to eat. But there are better ways than this—ways that don’t leave people cursing your name. My distillery is short a few laborers. Go see Steward Sun and sign up. Work hard—and no more crime!”

“Yes, sir! Thank you for your kindness—we’ll work hard, we swear!”

…

The thugs returned the stolen items, then knelt on the ground, kowtowing until some of their foreheads were raw and red, yet still they did not stop.

After all, Renyichang Distillery was now a flourishing business, raking in gold every day, and its workers enjoyed the best treatment anywhere: three hearty meals a day, generous wages, never a penny withheld. During holidays, sacks of grain, pork, and cloth were handed out. If a worker fell ill, all medicine was reimbursed. If one married, a fat wedding gift arrived. Even funerals were not neglected.

All these benefits, and more. To be a mere laborer at Renyichang was better than being an assistant manager elsewhere—a dream job for the poor.

Such good fortune now fell to these former thugs; their gratitude knew no bounds. For all men have shame—given a chance at a decent life, who would choose to be a ruffian, mocked and scorned by all?

The thugs left in high spirits, while the onlookers whispered among themselves:

“Those thugs are always making trouble at the docks. Why didn’t Young Master Zhao just give them a good beating, settle the score for us, instead of finding them jobs?”

…

“You blockhead, you don’t understand. Beating them up is easy, but in a few days they’d be back to their old tricks. That’s just treating the symptoms, not the cause. Give them proper work to protect their livelihood, and they’ll never make trouble again. They’ll even be grateful, and work their bones for the distillery. To cure a disease, treat the root; to rule men, win their hearts. Young Master Zhao’s methods are brilliant!”

A wise man among the crowd sighed in admiration.

Meanwhile, the youth in white wiped the blood from his lips, took his little sister by the hand, and bowed deeply to Li Zhao. “My name is Xiaowu. Thank you, sir, for your timely help.”

“It was nothing. No need to thank me… Judging by your accent, you and your sister are from Bashu?”

“That’s right. We’ve come from Guangyuan Prefecture, Jian’nan Circuit, to seek out a distant uncle in Chang’an. We ran out of money on the road and had no choice but to play music at the docks for travel fare. We never expected trouble from those thugs. If not for you, we’d have been in real trouble. My deepest thanks again, sir.”

“No need for thanks… Hm!”

Xiaowu’s voice was clear and melodious, as sweet as an oriole’s song. But Li Zhao’s gaze fell to the youth’s neck.

During the scuffle, Xiaowu’s collar had been torn open, revealing a neck as white as snow. Around it hung a jade pendant the size of a walnut, blood-red throughout, carved with the image of a mythical beast: dragon’s head, deer’s antlers, lion’s eyes, tiger’s back, bear’s waist—the foremost of the Five Auspicious Beasts in Chinese myth: the Qilin.

Li Zhao wore an identical Qilin jade pendant—same size, same color, unmistakably cut from the same source.

The only difference: Li Zhao’s was a male Qilin, with thick, powerful horns and a regal, commanding air. Xiaowu’s was a female, with slender, delicate horns and a gentle, graceful bearing—lacking a measure of that kingly force.