After Harris Ma and Jack Golden set out once more, Lena Sanders sat beneath the veranda, lost in thought.
Darren Chang busied himself placing the blades and spears back in their usual spots, then brought out his thick oxhide armor and began oiling it with care, glancing at Lena now and then.
Lena drew the slender sword that had always been by her side — the very weapon she'd awakened with.
When her mind fell silent and empty, this body moved of its own accord, knowing instinctively how to wield the blade, how to kill — as if another soul lived within her. Indeed, it had belonged to another once.
It had taken her over a month to truly inhabit it, to make it hers.
Blind Mi had called her a first-rate assassin. Prince Heir, too, had said she fought with the style of one who kills for a living.
Then this body, surely, had a past — and that past must have been a killer's past.
If assassins truly existed as a profession, then such a history would indeed be a fascinating one.
William Chen was not at Prince Rui's estate when Jack Golden arrived. The gatekeeper, all smiles and warmth, pointed him straight toward the outer side of the Imperial City's Gate of Virtue.
There, William was accompanying Gavin Shea to inspect the Ao Mountain installation. By dusk, the lanterns would be lit, and the grandest festival of the year — the Festival of Lights — would begin.
A servant came to summon William out.
Gavin stepped back half a pace, craning his neck slightly to catch a glimpse between attendants — Jack Golden, all amiable smiles, speaking to a solemn-faced William.
William returned swiftly, meeting Gavin's glance with a forced grin. "It's Miss Li," he said quickly. "She asked to see me at the teahouse by Fried Rice Alley — said it was urgent."
"Oh." Gavin's reply was flat, almost indifferent.
William waited a moment. When Gavin said nothing more, he forced another smile. "We're rather busy just now. Perhaps I could send Zhihe instead?"
"She asked for you, not him. If you wish to go, then go. Your presence here makes no difference," Gavin said, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked on.
William looked helpless. Simon Wen gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and whispered, "You'd best go and return quickly. Then report back."
"Ah," William sighed heavily, then turned to leave.
When he arrived at the teahouse, Lena Sanders was already waiting. She rose as he entered, offering a courteous smile.
William sat across from her and noticed only a single cup of plain tea before her. He waved off the attendant, indicating he needed nothing.
"Miss Li," he began, getting straight to the point, "you said it was urgent?"
"Have you ever heard of assassins — as a profession?" Lena's question was even more direct. Meeting William's startled eyes, she smiled faintly and explained:
"This morning, two men were found dead in an alley near West Tower Street. The constables arrived and had the bodies sent straight to Luoze Garden.
"Harris Ma happened to pass by and overheard that both men wore small plaques engraved with the words 'Life and Death by Fate'. The officials said they were assassins.
"Tell me, does Castleton truly have such a trade?"
"Miss Li…" William began, then stopped short. He almost said you yourself are one, but swallowed the thought.
Prince Heir had once speculated that her skill bore the mark of a killer's training — but it was only conjecture. To voice it now would be reckless.
"Why inquire about such things?" he asked instead, changing tack deftly.
"It sounds like quite the lucrative business. Surely, Master Wen, a man of your insight, knows something about it," Lena said lightly, smiling.
"I know very little," he replied smoothly. "Only that some pay silver to have men slain, and others take silver to do the killing. Surely you already knew that?" His tone was careful, probing.
"Among those who pursued Prince Heir," Lena asked evenly, "were there assassins? What were their prices?"
"I've heard they do not take commissions from officials," William answered, "nor kill government men."
"I see." Lena tapped the table, looking pleased.
"Miss Li, if you're considering that line of work…" William leaned forward slightly, choosing his words with care. "There are many trades in Castleton far more profitable — and far less perilous — than assassination."
"Thank you," Lena said with a polite bow.
"You're too kind," William replied, returning the gesture before taking his leave.
When he hurried back to the Gate of Virtue, Gavin Shea was overseeing the final water tests for the illuminated mountain.
William approached and quietly relayed his brief conversation with Lena.
"…You once said," Gavin murmured, brow furrowed, "that her martial arts were of the assassin's path. Could it be true, then? Is she planning to return to her old trade?"
After a moment's thought, he lowered his voice. "Choose a trustworthy man. Have him discreetly examine those two corpses. I doubt she seeks to become a killer again — more likely, she's crossed paths with them."
William blinked, then raised his brows, realizing he hadn't thought of that.
"She asked for you, not me," Gavin continued, his tone cool but amused. "Because she's not close to you — easier to sound you out. Be careful around her, William. That Miss Li has a mind as intricate as a maze — clever, calculating, and endlessly shrewd."
William nodded, murmured assent, and called for his attendant Baicheng, instructing him to take two men to Luoze Garden and quietly investigate the two bodies collected that morning.
After lunch, Harris Ma returned to Fried Rice Alley.
"Didn't eat enough while talking. Get me some meatballs," he said to Jack Golden as he squatted beside Lena.
Jack darted into the kitchen and reappeared almost instantly, thrusting a bamboo basket brimming with meat buns, shrimp balls, fritters, and crispy leaves into his hands.
"The brokerage won't open until after the fifteenth, so I went to see Xiao Xiao instead — he lives right beside it.
"When I mentioned assassins, he nearly jumped out of his skin. I told him about the morning's incident, said I'm the sort who can't rest till I've got to the bottom of things — otherwise, it eats at me."
Harris popped a meatball into his mouth, chewed, swallowed hard, and went on.
"Xiao Xiao said he didn't know anything, but there's an old helper named Du in Pighead Alley who supposedly has assassin connections.
"I happen to know the man — once lent him a few coins when he was borrowing from Xiao Xiao. So I went straight to find him."
"Old Du's a pitiful soul — spent his whole life as a hired hand, never made it onstage. Now he's old, lame, and half-starved. So I treated him to a hearty meal at the tavern by the alley gate, meat dishes and a few bottles of wine.
"He talked plenty after that — though truth be told, he doesn't know much. But one thing he swore by: assassins who kill for silver, they're real."
Harris bit into a mutton bun, eyes gleaming.
"He said that when he was young, he once nursed a sick assassin — fetched his medicine, cooked his food, looked after him for a month or two.
"He was curious, so he pried a few stories out of the man. Said there's a place where killers take commissions — prices all listed in neat rows. The base rate? A thousand taels.
"And if the first assassin fails and dies, the job goes back on the board at double the price. If the next one dies too — doubles again.
"Boss, that means our bounty's worth at least two thousand taels by now!"
Harris raised two fingers triumphantly, beaming.
"Hold on," Jack Golden said, just as excited. "Yesterday two died at once — does that count as one round or two?"
"No idea," Harris said through a mouthful. "Old Du didn't say. Anything else he added was pure nonsense — stuff like assassins turning into yellow mist when they die, or flying thousands of miles on their swords to take heads. Obvious tall tales."
He snorted in disdain.
Lena nodded slightly, summing up calmly: "So far, we've learned quite a bit.
"First — those two men were assassins.
"Second — assassins don't take commissions from officials, nor do they kill them. So this likely has nothing to do with the Marquis of Yongping.
"Third — assassins have a place where they receive and exchange assignments.
"Such a place must not draw attention. It would likely be in the city — a teahouse or tavern, somewhere ordinary yet discreet.
"A teahouse would be best: one can come and go at any hour, stay just long enough for a cup of tea.
"It would be well-kept but not overly grand — unremarkable to outsiders, yet convenient for both killers and their wealthy patrons.
"We need to find that place."
She leaned back in her chair, satisfied. For a single day's work in a strange city like Castleton, this was progress enough.
"So what now, Boss? Do we search every teahouse? There are seventy-two licensed inns alone — who knows how many teahouses?" Harris groaned.
Castleton had everything — except simplicity.
"Look at you," Jack sneered. "Going door to door? Why not knock and ask outright, 'Hey, you folks run an assassin shop here?'"
"Don't be stupid! You can't even read," Harris shot back, then turned to Lena. "Boss, what do we do?"
"We do what we always do. Tonight, which place still has seats?" Lena asked Jack.
"Yu Xian Tavern — straight south. Closer than Zhang's Cheese House!" Jack replied eagerly.