Chapter Nine: The Poison of Devouring Life

Sun Anzu did not come to a good end? Dou Jiande sat motionless in his room, holding the slip of paper, pondering deeply. Who was this Li Wenyuan? Why would he want to tell him these things? Was it an attempt to sow discord, or was there a deeper secret at play? Too many questions swirled in his mind, refusing to be dispelled. Night had already fallen, and as Dou Jiande thought, sleepiness overcame him, and he involuntarily slumped over the desk, sinking into a deep sleep.

In a haze, he saw his friend Sun Anzu, leading a band of outlaws across the lake at Gaoji Po, fighting valiantly against the imperial soldiers, charging at the front. Suddenly, an arrow shot from the distance—a cold, silent arrow. Dou Jiande wanted to warn him, but found himself unable to make a sound. All he could do was watch helplessly as Sun Anzu took the arrow to his chest, fell from his horse, and tumbled into the water. Quickly, Sun Anzu was fished out by sailors from the same boat and brought back to the stronghold.

The physician in the stronghold treated him, wrote a prescription, and instructed strict rest before leaving. A few brothers who had originally followed Sun Anzu up the mountain stood by, their faces somber. After entrusting his care to a woman, they too departed one after another.

The scene shifted. Sun Anzu had awakened but was coughing violently, his face flushed. The woman beside him was patting his back to help him breathe. Another unfamiliar doctor came to change his dressing. As soon as the medicine cloth was lifted, pus oozed out in streams, the stench making the woman cover her nose and hurry out. Seeing the room empty except for himself and Sun Anzu, the doctor bent low to whisper a few words into Sun Anzu’s ear, then finished tending the wound and left.

Watching Sun Anzu suffer so wretchedly, Dou Jiande’s heart ached. He sat by his friend’s bedside. By now, Sun Anzu was no longer coughing; his breathing was steady, his cheeks were rosy—a final rally before death. Dou Jiande saw Sun Anzu’s eyes fixed on him, as if seeing his own reflection. Sun Anzu slowly lifted his arm, as if to grasp Dou Jiande’s hand, but caught only empty air. He said, “Brother, I hate it so much. I regret it—I regret not heeding your good advice.” With that, he drew a last breath and was gone.

Dou Jiande was plunged into grief, his chest tight and his heart throbbing with pain. He tried to rub his chest to ease it, but then heard the door open. As he was about to look up to see who it was, he felt the bed vanish beneath him, and he was falling into a bottomless abyss. Startled, he awoke with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat.

As he reached up to wipe his brow, he realized he was still holding the slip of paper. At once, he felt there must be more to Sun Anzu’s death. He recalled the doctor whispering something to Sun Anzu as he lingered near death, and that final gaze exchanged between them. It seemed undeniably a message from Sun Anzu, a posthumous appeal for justice.

So the night passed. At dawn, after washing, Dou Jiande heard Zhang Jincheng calling him outside to join him for breakfast. Since Sun Anzu had appointed him commander of the sailors to win over the men, granting him the second seat, and after Sun Anzu’s festering wound led to his death, Zhang Jincheng had succeeded him as chief of Gaoji Po with the support of the others. Now that Dou Jiande had come to join them, it was only right for Zhang to play the host.

All the leaders, great and small, were summoned to the meal, which doubled as a council for the day’s plans. Dou Jiande watched Zhang Jincheng issue orders with some discomfort, but could not pinpoint why. Then, Zhang Jincheng turned to a man named Sun Shuo and asked, “What did the second naval squad accomplish yesterday? What are today’s plans?”

Sun Shuo replied, “Chief, yesterday our squad raided an official grain ship. We seized countless bushels of rice and captured hundreds of the escorting soldiers. By our stronghold’s rules, the commanding officer was executed on the spot. The rank and file who surrendered have been disarmed and are being kept under guard, without a hint of mistreatment. Today we’ve heard a large official patrol ship is searching for the missing grain ships, so we plan to ambush them and further strengthen our navy.”

Dou Jiande looked at the speaker—Sun Shuo, a former soldier of his, and a fellow from his hometown. He cupped his fist and said to Zhang Jincheng, “Chief, as a newcomer to your stronghold, I am grateful for your warm hospitality and that of my brothers, but I feel uneasy receiving such kindness without merit. I am willing to join the assault as a common soldier, to take the lead in slaying those running dogs and avenging my family.”

Zhang Jincheng had joined the group after its numbers had swelled from two hundred to several thousand, and no one now spoke of the two hundred soldiers Dou Jiande had once provided. Seeing Dou Jiande volunteer to join the fight, and hearing him address him as chief, Zhang felt a sense of accomplishment in winning over local heroes. He replied without suspicion, “Very well. Brother Jiande, though you have only just arrived and are weary from your journey, you insist on fighting at the front—a fine spirit. From now on, you will be vice-captain of the second naval squad, assisting Captain Sun Shuo.”

Dou Jiande was overjoyed that his request was granted, though he kept his face impassive. He stood and saluted Zhang Jincheng, “I accept the charge.”

After the meal, Dou Jiande returned to his room, took up his weapons, dressed, and asked directions to the second naval squad’s quarters. Leading his two hundred brothers, he went to find Sun Shuo.

Sun Shuo was in low conversation with another man. Seeing Dou Jiande arrive, he told the guard outside, “I must discuss today’s sortie with the vice-captain and chief sergeant. Guard the door well and let no one enter, or you’ll answer to the stronghold’s laws—I won’t be able to protect you.”

He closed the door behind him, turned, and made a deep bow to Dou Jiande, “Brother Dou, what brings you here? Are your parents and sister-in-law well?”

Dou Jiande sighed and recounted his misfortunes. Sun Shuo listened, fists clenched, veins bulging on his forehead. “I, Sun Shuo, swear here and now—one day, I shall personally take that man’s head, to comfort the souls of the wrongfully slain!”

Dou Jiande waved his hand; assaulting the prefecture was not yet his aim. He gestured to the man beside Sun Shuo, “And who is this?”

Sun Shuo replied, “This, Brother Dou, is Li Wenyuan of Longxi, a master archer. He can shoot a candle across water from a boat at night. He has long admired your reputation and sought me out, hoping for an introduction.”

On hearing the name Li Wenyuan, Dou Jiande was startled. He seized Li Wenyuan’s hand, voice trembling, “Good brother, was it you who sent the flying arrow message that night?”

Li Wenyuan nodded. “It was a sudden matter, and I had no better way to reach you. Forgive my poor method.”

Dou Jiande, anxious as fire, cared not whether Li Wenyuan had startled him that night. “Never mind that—tell me, what did you mean when you said my brother Sun Anzu did not die a natural death?”

Li Wenyuan drew several sheets from his robe. “Brother, look at these. They are recipes I took from Sun Anzu’s cook, detailing the food he ate after his injury.”

Dou Jiande examined the pages closely. The dishes seemed ordinary, nothing amiss. He looked up. “What are you implying, brother?”

Only then did Li Wenyuan realize he’d been too hasty; in this era, there were no comprehensive medical texts like the Compendium of Materia Medica. He explained, “Brother Dou, I once heard a foreign doctor say that tamed wild geese are called ‘domestic geese.’ On the grasslands, they never let a wounded man eat goose or mutton. If they do, at best the wound heals slowly; at worst, it festers and rots with a foul odor. Such foods are called ‘triggering’ because they cause inflammation and unhealing wounds.”

Dou Jiande was shocked. He looked again at the recipes—goose every three days, much mutton, and local lotus seed porridge.

He asked, “How much of this is what the doctor spoke of?”

Li Wenyuan pointed at the recipes, “All of these are triggering foods. Every one.”

Dou Jiande’s face turned livid with rage. “Such a vicious method—where is the cook now? I must question who gave the order!”

Sun Shuo shook his head. “Not long after Sun Anzu died, the cook’s house burned down for no reason—his whole family perished in the fire. These few pages are all that Wenyuan managed to rescue from the flames.”

Arson, one of the many taboos of the old days. Dou Jiande cursed, “Damn it! How could it be a coincidence that Sun Anzu dies and those who know the truth die just after? This is no accident—this is murder and covering the tracks!”

“Yes, Brother Dou. Wenyuan kept these recipes as evidence because he saw something was wrong,” Sun Shuo said, giving Li Wenyuan a curious look. “He also said you would definitely come here, so he stayed with me as chief sergeant.”

Dou Jiande was surprised. “Oh? Brother Wenyuan, how could you be so sure I would come?”

“Brother Dou, have you not realized? When the world is about to descend into chaos, the officials become corrupt first; when order returns, so too does honest governance. With your upright character, how could you survive in such a corrupt system? You must know that a gentleman and a villain are like water falling into hot oil—the drop will always perish in the boil.” Li Wenyuan smiled. “Moreover, after Sun Anzu’s death, Zhang Jincheng had his confidants arrange a quiet burial for Sun, to avoid the authorities taking advantage of the unrest to attack and destroy all Sun Anzu had built.”

“His conduct is watertight. Leaving the stronghold in his hands, at least, won’t bring ruin,” Dou Jiande mused. Suddenly, a thought struck him. “Before my brother died, did any physician from outside the stronghold come to see him?”

Sun Shuo pondered a moment. “Yes—by then Zhang Jincheng had taken control, but had yet to win over the men. Sun Anzu’s followers could still ignore his orders, and in his anxiety, Zhang had his men kidnap a famous doctor from Qinghe County below the mountain—a man known as the Living Judge, said to bring the dead back to life. No matter how grave the wound, as long as there was a breath left, he could save them.”

“Did my brother die on the day that doctor left?” asked Dou Jiande.

“Yes, yes—how did you know, Brother Dou?” Sun Shuo asked in surprise.

“Last night, in a dream half waking, half sleeping, my brother sent me a message. All I’ve told you comes from that dream,” Dou Jiande replied, voice trembling.

“What? Then Sun Anzu’s death truly has a hidden cause?” Sun Shuo cried.

“Yes, I am sure of it,” Dou Jiande affirmed.

“In fact, the one who gained most directly and benefited most from Sun Anzu’s death is the present chief, Zhang Jincheng,” Li Wenyuan mused.

“Let’s set that aside. If Zhang Jincheng is truly behind this, then at this moment, I am surely under surveillance and unable to move freely. Sun Shuo, as one of Anzu’s men, must be watched too. Only you, Wenyuan, who came after Anzu’s death and have no background, are likely to be overlooked. Tomorrow, go down to Qinghe County to find out who the Living Judge is—and if possible, bring him back, so we may question him ourselves,” Dou Jiande said after some thought.

“That’s no problem—I want to investigate Sun Anzu’s death myself, and I have no record with the authorities. Even if you hadn’t asked, I would go. The question is, what excuse do I use to leave the stronghold? And if I need to kidnap someone, I’ll need a few absolutely trustworthy men to help,” said Li Wenyuan.

“No problem—I’ll send three of my own men with you tomorrow. They were all death row prisoners whom Sun Anzu saved—they are completely reliable. I’ll give you an order to investigate the officials in Qinghe County. We haven’t checked the county this month anyway,” Sun Shuo nodded.

“Brother Wenyuan, if you can uncover the cause of my brother’s death, I, Dou Jiande, will do all in my power to repay your kindness,” Dou Jiande said with a deep bow.

Li Wenyuan had just begun to reply when the drums of battle sounded. He turned to the pressing matter, “The official ships are here. How should we respond?”

“How? The real navy has long gone to fight Goguryeo; what’s left is nothing but rotten fish and shrimp—hardly worth our worry. Let us unite and chase them off in a rout!” Sun Shuo laughed.

The three led the second naval squad out through the water gate, Sun banners flying in the wind. Only Sun Shuo’s squad still bore the Sun character, not yet replaced by Zhang’s. As he said, one day, when he had slain all the Sui traitors, he would remove the Sun banner himself and spend the rest of his life guarding Sun Anzu’s tomb.

Many had urged Zhang Jincheng to use the opportunity to rid himself of Sun Shuo, including his own confidants. Zhang Jincheng replied, “It is best when a man’s intentions are out in the open—they can be guarded against. If I were to kill Sun Shuo, all the others would hide their fangs, waiting for a chance to strike when we least expect it. It would be impossible to defend against. Better to leave him be, and earn a reputation for magnanimity and generosity. Isn’t that better? You short-sighted fellows, hold your tongues.”