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Ding Rong was silent, but that was nothing new.
One of the appealing qualities of Ding Rong had always been his lack of words, and his unspoken understanding of Wang Zhi’s intentions. Of course, in those last couple of weeks at the capital, his number of unsolicited questions had increased.
Wang Zhi could understand that behavior now, in retrospect. In retrospect, he could understand a lot of things.
Ding Rong watched him from across the table, his glassy eyes unblinking.
Wang Zhi glanced at the chopsticks held loosely in Ding Rong’s hand. “What? Why aren’t you eating today?”
“Why don’t you kill me?”
What a stupid question.
Wang Zhi continued eating, chewing with measured bites and feigning immunity to the intensity of Ding Rong’s gaze. “Have I been unkind to you recently?” he asked. He picked at some greens in his bowl, not actually bringing it to his mouth as he waited for an answer.
It came, not as a spoken word, but in the tilt of Ding Rong’s head, which Wang Zhi observed out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ve given you tasks to carry out around the city.”
Ding Rong nodded.
“I’ve given you authority over your own squad again.”
Another nod.
Wang Zhi put his chopsticks down over his bowl and looked up, meeting Ding Rong’s stare. “These small things could be done by anyone—you know that I don’t need you alive in order to run this town so ‘why don’t I kill you’?” He shrugged. “Why should I?”
Ding Rong leaned forward slightly, as was his habit. “It’s what I would have done.”
“Be that as it may…” Wang Zhi trailed off. It was almost as though Ding Rong was fishing for the answer to some other question..
Ding Rong remained still, listening to the silence as if it still carried the rest of Wang Zhi’s sentence. Or maybe he was hearing the error in his own assertion. ‘ It’s what I would have done’ , he had said. Yet, given the opportunity, that had not been the case.
Perhaps they were even on that matter. Wang Zhi smiled.
Ding Rong didn’t. He rarely smiled in earnest between just the two of them. Their philosophies had always differed on that front; Ding Rong gained nothing by it and had no reason to plaster on a smile, fake or no, so he simply refrained from both. That was another thing that Wang Zhi liked about him—he did not have the patience for charismatic facades, and had made it to Wang Zhi’s side by skill alone.
“Well,” Ding Rong said, matter-of-fact as he finally picked up his chopsticks. “You should have killed me.”
Wang Zhi laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
#
An issue of disruptions and raiding of supplies reserved for the soldiers on the outer border of Wang Zhi’s jurisdiction had finally been resolved.
Ding Rong bowed his head as he delivered the news and added, “The majority of the bandits have been captured and the remaining are being pursued. I will determine how they gained information about—” He stopped quickly as Wang Zhi waved a dismissive hand.
“Let them rot overnight,” he said. He was feeling generous like that on this night—or perhaps it was the burnt wine coursing warmly through his system. “Sit and drink with me. You’ve done well.”
Ding Rong’s legs all but buckled at those words and he shuffled toward the table on his knees, swiftly refilling Wang Zhi’s cup, then pouring wine into the second cup that sat waiting on the table.
They toasted silently and Wang Zhi threw back his drink, mulling over the turn of recent events. Life in the He Tao prefecture had been smooth sailing for these past months. Any issues were not big issues—nothing more than the threats he had dealt with as commander of the Western Depot. Greedy businessman, lurking bandits, and agitated garrisons and Oirat tribes to appease—aside from the last, these were the common challenges of any high office.
There was yet to be a problem too big for Wang Zhi to unravel on his own. And that’s a good thing, he reminded himself. Yet, he still felt the occasional, wistful pang. All he could do about it was to choose to ignore those feelings in the quiet company and the alcohol.
At the capital, he had only shared meals with Ding Rong on the handful of days that the Depot was in the middle of squashing a problem, and allotting time for discussion was of the essence. Out here, it was far more common.
Of course, Ding Rong had not had much say in the matter initially. On a whim, after settling into his new home, Wang Zhi had chosen to go to the jail and enter the cell where he had deposited his longtime follower. He had come with the intention of sharing a meal—he supposed he had gotten fond of the concept—and Ding Rong had said, in a stiff way, “What do you intend to do with me?”
“You mean, will I keep you in here forever?” he had replied. “No. It’s my wish to let you out.”
Silence had stretched between bites of food, but only on Wang Zhi’s end.
“But?” Ding Rong had said. He had not yet touched his bowl of rice, nor had he made any move for the vegetable dishes sitting on the table between them.
Peculiar. But then, Wang Zhi had supposed it was his own mistake for assuming food would sway someone like Ding Rong. “I won’t forget that you schemed against me,” he had said. “But some people are more useful free than imprisoned.”
“Not like your Yang Fu.”
Wang Zhi had hummed in agreement, and had waited for Ding Rong to say something else. When several minutes had passed without response, he had grown both irritated and impressed by the demonstration of resolve.
“You shouldn’t do it. It won’t look good for you to let me out,” Ding Rong had said at last.
“I know what I should and shouldn’t do,” Wang Zhi had snapped.
Ding Rong’s eyes had dropped to the table between them. “I arrived in a cage. People will talk.”
Wang Zhi had offered a wry smile. “I’m a eunuch warlord with His Majesty’s favor. People already talk. When have I ever cared what they said?”
After another pause, Ding Rong had stood, backed up to near the wall of the cell, and had bowed formally, dropping down all the way to the ground. “I deserve death. Wang Zhi is merciful—”
“Oh, stop if you don’t mean it.”
Ding Rong had gone quiet, but he hadn’t raised his head.
Wang Zhi had continued softly, knowing that his words were being carefully listened to. “You have no support here other than myself. I won’t forget that you harbored seditious intent, but I will forgive it this once. There are no other options here. You won’t attempt to depose me again.”
“No,” Ding Rong had agreed after a beat.
“Then get up. Eat something—you can’t help me if you’re weak and frail.”
Ding Rong had lifted his head then, and there was a particular, strained edge to his mask of composure—the trace of an emotion Wang Zhi couldn’t place. Ding Rong had taken a seat across from him, and after supper, they had left the jail together.
Now, months on, they shared a vessel of burnt wine together, almost as if nothing had changed. And yet, the communal drink was in itself a marked shift in things between them.
Things between us.
Wang Zhi thought over that notion, pleasantly flushed and straddling the blurry line between tipsiness and a deeper intoxication.
Ding Rong topped off his cup again and Wang Zhi blinked, accepting it. In his mind, he saluted the crown—long live the Emperor—then drank, feeling the spicy sweetness of the wine burn down his throat and fill his belly with fire.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Ding Rong said. Though his words were hushed, they nonetheless fell harshly in the silence.
And I was feeling so mellow. Frowning, Wang Zhi squinted across the table. “Why do you keep asking something so obnoxious?”
“Apologies.” He had been invited to sit and drink, but it had not escaped Wang Zhi’s notice that Ding Rong sat at the edge of his seat, still at attention. He had politely downed the first small shot of liquor, but had managed to keep his cup empty by continuing to fill Wang Zhi’s instead.
“You miss Tang Fan and Sui Zhou,” Ding Rong observed quite randomly.
Wang Zhi contemplated the real purpose behind such a remark. “I like my post here,” he replied at length. “The duties and challenges are what I have always preferred to deal in. The loss of a couple of colleagues makes no difference to me.”
“The loss of colleagues,” Ding Rong repeated. He tilted his head.
“If you have something else to say, say it.”
Ding Rong bowed politely, the small tilt of his head as clear a signal as a turtle retreating into its shell. “I have nothing else to say,” he claimed. Then he toasted Wang Zhi and stood. “I still need to give the jailers instruction tonight. I’ll see myself out.”
Wang Zhi watched him go, a rash of irritation flaring up in his mind. How vexing, he thought, and finished his present cup.
Over the years, he had become accustomed to Ding Rong’s ruthlessness, his obedience, and even his occasional sparks of excitement when faced with a new challenge. He had not predicted Ding Rong’s capacity to sulk.
Then again, he hadn’t predicted his weakness or corruptibility, either. Well. The sullenness was gaining a certain level of twisted charm, even though it irked Wang Zhi. And so long as Ding Rong did his duties, it made no difference if he had a poor temper behind closed doors. Wang Zhi still knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t press any issues in public. Ding Rong despised any suggestion that he was anything less than professional.
#
They set south a couple weeks later, following a lead on a larger network of bandits who reportedly operated out of a small, mountainous woodland. The bandit camp was just a day outside of the town, and typically, Wang Zhi wouldn’t accompany an operation like this, as his men were more than capable. However, the recent thieving had struck a personal cord due to its relentlessness. Moreover, merchants in the area were outraged and terrified by not only the threat of danger, but worse still—the loss of capital. This had created a fair bit of pressure on Wang Zhi, who could not abide by the blatant robbing of the citizens under his jurisdiction anyway. So, he had chosen to come along and oversee the raid.
His carriage rolled to a slow stop and the driver announced that they had arrived at the end of the path before the ground would be too uneven to continue. As Wang Zhi disembarked, he saw that the company of thirty soldiers were already splitting into groups, setting off in different directions according to earlier plans.
Wang Zhi scanned the activity, seeking out the tall figure of Ding Rong, who was directing the men up ahead. There were times that he found himself still searching for that swish of violet, even though at their new post, Ding Rong wore a classic but plain black robe with silver embroidery across the chest.
Instructions imparted, Ding Rong approached Wang Zhi, flanked by two soldiers while the rest headed off.
“Scouts reported movement around a hidden cave further into this woodland,” he reported in that neutral, steady way of his. “There are some men positioned at intervals to catch any escaping members, but we estimate a group of a dozen at most.”
Wang Zhi nodded and Ding Rong gestured for the soldiers to lead the way.
The cave that Ding Rong mentioned was indeed hidden, its entrance all but indiscernible, nestled in an alcove of enormous boulders and thick trees whose roots stuck out of the hilly ground. Wang Zhi stood back a distance as his men advanced along the dips and slopes toward the cave.
Shouts that echoed through the trees signaled that the bandits had caught on, and Wang Zhi observed as a number of men poured from the alcove with swords, meeting the soldiers taking point with their weapons raised.
“Forward!” Ding Rong’s voice rang out toward the front, and then harsh the clash of metal and wordless yells of men filled the air, creating a familiar din.
Wang Zhi waited patiently, at first assured by their comparative numbers, before he started to frown. The number of bandits emerging from the cave clearly exceeded a dozen.
Thump .
The sound of a body landing heavily to the ground nearby made him whip around, looking in time to see his guard falling to the ground, throat severed. Two thugs closed in on him, blades drawn, expressions smug.
Retreating a couple of steps, Wang Zhi’s back met the hard trunk of a tree. He came to a stop and sighed deeply, supposing that it was times like this that bringing Jiakui along would have come in handy. He would have to remember to send for the man later and see if he couldn’t be persuaded to come out to the He Tao region.
One of the bandits neared, sword still pointed menacingly toward Wang Zhi’s center before his eyes flicked up and down and a look of recognition crossed his expression.
Wang Zhi slipped his hand into the pocket along the side seam of his robe, fingers curling around the handle of his pistol while the surprise of coming face to face with a high official of the He Tao region distracted the bandit.
“Ah, ah. Don’t move,” said the other, a more cunning looking man of broad stature. He nodded at his companion, cueing him to rush forward and lock Wang Zhi’s arms to his side. His hand entered Wang Zhi’s pocket, clamping down around his own and withdrawing both hand and gun in a way that prevented firing it.
“Nice try,” said the larger bandit, snatching the pistol away. He bared his teeth in a smug smile, and then Wang Zhi saw him raise an arm, clearly intending to deliver a knock-out blow.
It never came.
Red splattered across Wang Zhi’s vision instead, and Ding Rong was there, already swinging his sword at the second bandit, who staggered out of the way.
Ding Rong stepped swiftly between the bandit and Wang Zhi, shoving him toward escape while the bandit regained his footing and raised his sword.
“Go,” Ding Rong bit out, bracing to parry the oncoming strike.
Wang Zhi swooped low as Ding Rong and the bandit clashed, stealing back his gun from the fallen attacker and scrambling out of the way. To his dismay, the flint had been knocked loose—it would be impossible to find it in the dirt—and as he glanced back toward the cave entrance, Wang Zhi could see multiple soldiers and bandits locked in combat. The thieves were remarkably well-trained and seemed to hold their own, with even more of the bandits forgoing the fights and making fierce bids for freedom.
The dispersion of the fight had created a chaos that would make retreating a bit of a hassle.
Wang Zhi stuffed the handgun back into his robes as he ducked back through the forest, half-tripping over the hem of his robes and the bumpy ground. He headed along the way he came, motioning toward a handful of soldiers in the immediate area who had noticed his movement. They began to do their best to disengage their ongoing matches, pivoting instead to fall in as his bodyguard.
Blood sprayed through the air and bodies fell by the wayside as they rushed away.
Wang Zhi cursed internally—he hated to be wrong because it caused unstable conditions, which meant an uncertain future, and…
“Sir, stay behind me,” a voice said suddenly, and a hand pulled him by the arm, yanking him to a stop. Then soldiers encircled him, facing outward and scanning for any possible attackers. Through the trees, the distant clamor of the remaining fight could be heard, but it seemed that the majority of the bandits had fled.
Panting, Wang Zhi turned to the man standing next to him, recognizing it at Xing Hongshu, the officer directly subordinate to Ding Rong.
“What happened?” Wang Zhi snapped. “That wasn’t a dozen men.”
The sound of fighting stopped and the sudden return to quiet thundered in Wang Zhi’s ears. He stepped forward, pushing out from behind the circle of guards just as soldiers who had continued fighting around the cave straggled over to regroup.
Those who were injured started back toward the main road at once. Wang Zhi looked around and spotted a lagging soldier with a gash across his cheek heading his way. “Ding Rong?” he asked.
The soldier gave a weary bow. “There was a group of the bandits—I saw them dragging him off southeast,” he panted.
Wang Zhi felt a strange sensation—like his blood freezing in his veins. He inhaled sharply. “You saw them, did you? Why didn’t you do anything?”
The soldier looked startled and started to reply, but Wang Zhi whirled, impatient, to shoot daggers at the men around him. “Well?”
Xing Hongshu stepped up quickly and barked, “Move out—follow southeast the way they ran.” He glanced at Wang Zhi. “Recover Ding Rong at all costs!”
Wang Zhi’s mind was already racing as the soldiers scattered. If they lost all traces of the bandits’ escape, the best next lead would be to return to the city and question those bandits still in the jail. I’ll interrogate them personally, he thought savagely, fingers curling into fists.
“Sir,” a voice called from afar. “We’ve recovered some supplies from the cave, and a couple of men have apprehended some of the criminals.”
Wang Zhi’s eyes snapped over at those words, and his feet moved automatically, carrying him through the forest toward the cave.
Corpses were strewn left and right on the patchy forest floor, red pooling around at least ten bodies, by Wang Zhi’s count. He caught sight of a couple of soldiers who appeared to have run off in chase of fleeing criminals.
Five men and one woman had been successfully captured and hauled back in ropes, all in various states of dishevelment. The woman, a strong, thirty-something dressed in men’s clothes, was the least battered of all the bandits.
Wang Zhi gestured for the soldiers escorting her to remain behind and he strode up to where she knelt on the ground. “Is there an emergency meeting place?” he said.
She spat at his feet and glared up at him with eyes large and coal-black.
“Has your leader run off, or is he among the dead?”
The woman looked away, turning up her nose.
Very well. Wang Zhi held his hand out palm up, and he couldn’t help but notice that it took an extra second longer than usual for a blade to be delivered to him. He held it at arm’s length, sharp edge against the side of the woman’s neck. “For your sake,” he said, “I’ll ask again. Where have your associates run off to?”
She laughed, a note of hysteria in her voice. “Nowhere! But I’ll tell you what—they’re long gone, regardless.”
A soldier ran up from over a nearby hill and held out a familiar bamboo pendant as he approached. “Sir,” he said, reporting, “We found Ding Rong’s identification near some of the trees. The other men are still in pursuit.”
Wang Zhi took the pendant and gazed at the characters carved out of the dark, polished bamboo. He could hear the thud of his heart in his ears as he closed his fingers tight around the amulet, and he turned his focus back to the woman before him.
“Think carefully about whether or not you want to live from here on out,” he warned. “The sentence for robbery is not as harsh as the punishment you will receive for aiding in the kidnap of an official appointed by the divine will of His Majesty.” Ding Rong wasn’t technically appointed by the Emperor, but that was an unimportant detail. Anger boiled inside of Wang Zhi, but he forced those emotions aside. He couldn’t be distracted at such a critical time.
The woman’s bravado faltered and Wang Zhi could see her eyes flicker back and forth as she weighed her options. She licked her lips nervously. “There was a plan to circle and meet again in Nanhecheng.”
That was the nearest populated town, almost half a day’s ride to the south of their position. Wang Zhi felt his lip curl. “How many are there of you in total?”
“Twenty.”
He pressed the blade of the sword deeper against her flesh and watched a red line split the skin, blood trickling down her neck.
“F-forty-seven!” she shrieked. “B-but some are dead and others might not follow the plan.” She screwed her eyes shut. “Please—spare me.”
Wang Zhi straightened up and handed the sword off to the nearest man, signaling with a nod of his head for her to be taken off with the rest of the captured bandits. At least she had not wasted too much of his time.
He turned to Xing Hongshu. “You know what to do.”
The lieutenant nodded and headed off and Wang Zhi turned to the soldier who had brought over Ding Rong’s identification badge. “You. Show me where you found this.”
The soldier led the way through the trees and over the small ledges and boulders, past the cave entrance where some soldiers were busily checking over the store of abandoned stolen goods. They crossed over two minor slopes, toward a collection of large trees that had grown so close to each other as to create a veritable wall of wood at the bottom of the second slope. Wang Zhi had never seen trees so large out here in He Tao, a region that mostly consisted of low shrubbery and rocky plateaus. On the other side of the trees was a rocky clearing where the trees were once again on the thinner and shorter side.
“We found the pendant near these trees, with signs of multiple people continuing on that way.” The soldier pointed into the clearing. “If what the prisoner said is true, then it appears that Ding Rong was taken hostage with them to Nanhecheng. The bandits probably intend to use him as leverage to guarantee—”
“Understood,” Wang Zhi said, staring at the tufts of wild grass on the forest floor and thinking the situation over. Ding Rong’s pendant hung from the end of a long braid of plum-dyed string, and Wang Zhi knew Ding Rong had a habit of securing the string end to his belt to keep the pendant in the pocket of his robes.
It was proof, at least, that the bandits had headed south.
Wang Zhi surveyed around the area again, but he didn’t spot any other clues. He turned to the soldier who had led him to the spot. “Follow the prisoners back to the jail and make sure they are questioned about the remaining supplies. They’ve stolen much more than what has been brought out of the caves. I want to know where the main stockpile is.”
“Yessir.” The soldier hesitated. “What about you, sir?”
Wang Zhi clenched his teeth and straightened up. “I’m going to Nanhecheng.”
#
The last time he had been so blindingly enraged, there had been far more lives at stake. Objectively, Wang Zhi figured that was a good thing. Less lives at stake meant that there was greater peace across the lands.
Moreover, the bandits that had escaped toward Nanhecheng had largely been apprehended following another chase and fight through the village. Little blood had been spilled in the rounding up of the thieves, and all-in-all, it appeared the situation was nowhere near dire.
But as he strode across the square of Nanhecheng, the fury roaring just below Wang Zhi’s surface of composure insisted otherwise. For one, the rest of the stolen goods were still unaccounted for. And Ding Rong had not been found.
Wang Zhi was close to spitting with anger, though to look at him would be to see a man who looked no less collected than usual. Hidden by the length of his sleeve, he clutched Ding Rong’s pendant so firmly, the edges of the bamboo were beginning to bruise into his palm.
Xing Hongshu approached him and bowed his head. “Sir. Congratulations on the capture of the thieves that have been attacking the supply roads.”
Wang Zhi bristled and he looked Xing Hongshu up and down with a sneer. “Congratulations? The supplies are still missing,” he said. “Make sure each and every one of those bandits are questioned. I don’t care what methods you use. You have two days.”
“Yessir.” Xing Hongshu began to turn, before stopping. “Sir…”
“Speak.”
“The men who were seen taking Ding Rong have been accounted for among the dead and captured. We’ll question the living offenders and I have people searching the village. It’s possible that they have a hidden storage of supplies somewhere in town.”
Wang Zhi nodded and Xing Hongshu dismissed himself to carry out instructions to the men. As Wang Zhi headed back to his carriage, two guards tailed behind.
Evening had begun to fall as he instructed the driver to head back to the city.
This was the part of any investigation that he disliked—the having to wait for results and new leads. And now, there was an added sense of urgency.
The carriage began to roll forward and Wang Zhi let the familiar motion sway him about as he sat back and held Ding Rong’s pendant up for inspection. He had examined his only clue over a dozen times, finding nothing out of the ordinary about it.
Carved entirely out of a single block of wood and without a single bead or amulet on the string braid, Ding Rong’s badge was about as plain as they came. Still, there was some reflection of the owner in the pendant’s minor customization. The color of the string matched Ding Rong’s old uniform at the capital, and the bamboo had been polished with a dark resin, giving it an elegant appearance.
Wang Zhi turned it over in his hand again, feeling the smoothness of the bamboo as he thought it over once again. The loop of braided string that usually attach the pendant to Ding Rong’s belt was a bit frayed, but otherwise the whole thing was in good condition.
Too good.
The cord was still intact, meaning the badge had been tossed rather than broken off. But why had Ding Rong tossed the pendant where he did, back in the woods? He would have known that a search would sweep a wide area of the forest—he could’ve held onto the pendant for a little longer to give a better idea of the direction he had been taken in.
Why had he left the clue so early? Had it been intentional or as an accidental effort? What wild conclusion might Tang Fan come up with if he were here?
Wang Zhi blinked and leaned forward. “Go back to the woods,” he ordered the driver through the carriage.
“Are you sure, sir? It’s getting dark—”
“I’m aware. Just stop when you reach the forest,” he said, sitting back. He felt a bit faint, his thoughts pulled in a million different directions. Doubt and hope warred, and annoyance at his own lack of an initial comprehensive search flared in his mind, too.
He shook it all away, forcing those diversions into little boxes that could be shoved to the back of his head for later consideration.
Right. He collected his thoughts again. He should check the area around the cave again. There had to be another hint.
The sun had begun to set by the time they reached the edge of the forest, and the two soldiers accompanying Wang Zhi—one as driver and another riding on horseback alongside the carriage—paused to construct a couple of torches to lead the way, as no one had prepared lanterns for the day’s events.
The orange glow provided by the light of his small party cast long shadows through the woodland as Wang Zhi marched ahead. He found the cave in good time, the former fighting grounds still stained by blood though the bodies had long been carried away by the soldiers.
Wang Zhi paused for a moment, contemplating whether to enter the cave first, or re-canvas the surrounding area. In the end, he nodded at one of the two soldiers trailing him. “You stay here.”
He gestured for the other to follow him into the cave, which, cavernous, led deep into the rocky hill. Although the low, sloping ceiling and the moist, cold conditions of the cave did not invite long term living, the bandits had clearly managed to use it as a decent hideaway. Some supplies had been kept in a corner on a straw mat, but what had been found was not nearly as much as what had gone missing in past weeks.
When the supplies had started to go missing, Wang Zhi had placed pressure on the blackmarket. There had not been a substantial increase of any one product on the market in recent days, so he was sure that the supplies were still being stored by the bandits elsewhere. With all luck, Xing Hongshu and the soldiers would find a lead in Nanhecheng.
The crackle of the torch in the soldier’s hand echoed through the cave, accompanied only by reverberations of the drip of condensation in unseen corners.
Pulling his cloak around him, Wang Zhi turned on his heel, ready to go back outside. He was unsure of what he had expected to see. The sign of a hidden storage area? No, the cave’s walls were all clearly natural formations, and there were no large boulders inside that might act as a secret doorway.
It was just as he headed for the mouth of the cave that he heard a strangled shout from outside. The soldier at his side shoved the torch into his hand and dashed ahead, prepared for another skirmish, but as they emerged, they found the second soldier was still standing. He prodded a fallen figure with his boot and raised his torch higher.
The fire illuminated the attacker, identifying him through his style of traveling clothes as a bandit. The guard standing outside the cave had managed to slash him up the chest, but even bleeding profusely, the bandit lived, breathing shallowly, eyes wide in the night.
“He circled back,” the soldier puzzled, and lifted his sword to finish the job.
“Wait,” Wang Zhi said, narrowing his eyes. There must be a reason why. He put the torch back in the hand of the second soldier and squatted down by the dying man, blocking out the rays of light that shined overhead. He met a trembling gaze. “What did you come back for?” he said in a low voice. “Tell me, and I’ll make sure you live.”
The bandit looked to be in his mid-thirties, face weatherworn and eyes aged from a hard life. Well, if he had been a soldier once, Wang Zhi supposed there was no fooling him. He sat back on his heels, not bothering to worry with his robes, which dragged in the dirt. The hem was already ruined from earlier in the afternoon.
“What’s your name?” he tried again. “I’ll make sure your family knows what happened to you.” He saw a flash of something akin to anguish spark in the bandit’s expression, and the man gave a wet cough, his lungs having started to fill with blood.
“Your family won’t be punished,” Wang Zhi said. “But only if you tell me now. What did you come back for? There’s nothing here.”
“Tr…” The bandit’s eyes began to flutter close. “Trees…” he sighed out, and then he was dead.
Wang Zhi stared for a moment and then climbed to his feet, the two soldiers who had been hovering over him with the light now scrambling to get out of his way.
Trees.
It almost made sense, he supposed. He thought about what Tang Fan would do. If the bandit said trees, that probably meant he ought to go look for some trees.
But I’m surrounded by trees.
Wang Zhi took an uncertain step forward, before committing to it, setting his direction toward the edge of the clearing where Ding Rong’s pendant was found. He recalled that there had been a number of massive trees just over the ridge.
As Wang Zhi darted ahead, he moved with enough sudden haste that he outpaced the glow of the torchlight. In the dark, the thick lines of the trees shooting from the rocky crag looked like fortresses, the broad circumference of their trunks creating shadowy pockets where the light didn’t follow.
“There should be something around here,” Wang Zhi said, spinning on the spot. “A hideaway of some kind. Search the area.”
He saw the two soldiers glance at each other uncertainly before they both nodded and split off in different directions, waving light into the dark corners and closely investigating the ground and the shrubs. They didn’t know what they looked for exactly, but they were trying earnestly nevertheless. The cries of unseen insects filled the air as the soldiers searched in their opposite directions, the light afforded by their torches diminishing with each step, diluting into the inky surroundings.
Wang Zhi went to the nearest tree, resting his palm against the bark and wondering if he was running around like a fool. Night had fallen, after all, and who knew what manner of beast might come out in search of food at this time. Furthermore, the risk of losing one’s footing and tumbling along an unexpected cliffside was far higher without decent lighting. It would be wiser to return to Nanhecheng and come back in the morning…
“There’s something over here!” came a shout to his left.
Wang Zhi straightened up and hurried to follow the sound, spotting the edge-glow of torchlight several paces away. He rounded one of the immense trees on and nearly lost his footing to a sudden ledge on the other side.
“Careful, sir,” the soldier said, helping him down to study the bundle of goods that were half-hidden, stowed in a crevice under the exposed roots of the tree.
The soldier dragged the items out into the open and stepped back, lifting his light so Wang Zhi could bend down and unroll the bundle. Inside were a number of stolen metalwares, items that had been expected to be delivered to the city’s merchants.
“See if there’s anything else under there,” Wang Zhi ordered, taking the torch from the soldier.
He got down on his hands and knees, peeking under the tree and reaching under the roots. “Nothing else, sir,” he said when he straightened up.
Wang Zhi turned slowly on the spot, examining the nearby trees. There had to be a stash of the stolen supplies hidden throughout the area.
At that moment, the second soldier joined them, and Wang Zhi gave him instructions to report back to Xing Hongshu as quickly as possible. He would need more searchers to come back and scour the forest as soon as the sun rose.
The soldier raced off.
“Sir?” said the remaining one. Wang Zhi supposed that, in the future, it would help to have at least a surface recollection of the names of these men. He had been at this post over half a year now; names of local magistrates and subordinate officials, he knew well, but the rank-in-file soldiers assigned to the city were a different matter.
I’ll at least make inquiries over the names of Ding Rong’s hand-selected , he thought wearily. The idea was an unhappy reminder that—that his—that Ding Rong was still missing.
“Sir, shall I continue looking?” the remaining soldier asked. The light of the torch began to burn out and Wang Zhi handed it back.
He inhaled deeply, breathing in the earthy scent of the small woodland. The air had cooled around them, and the early autumn air began to chill Wang Zhi even through his layers of clothing. In his pocket, Ding Rong’s pendant seemed to weigh heavily next to his own.
He needed to be realistic. It would be better to get some sleep and return with a larger party when the sun had risen again.
A wind rustled through the forest, softly shaking leaves. The torchlight flickered dangerously, flame dancing on the breeze. An owl hooted in the dark, its call echoing from high above.
The soldier startled and looked around frantically, as though he had heard something.
Wang Zhi frowned and squinted but saw nothing past the circle of light afforded by the torch. He looked up, and saw only faint moonbeams fighting to reach through a cover of clouds.
“Sir, did you hear…” The soldier trailed off, tilting his head to listen.
Wang Zhi concentrated as well, holding his breath as he turned his attention to the little noises of the woodland. Then he heard a faint thump, like something knocking against packed earth.
His eyes widened and he peered around, certain that the sound had come from somewhere over to his left, yet as he strained to hear it again, the night grew silent. He waited, but there was no repeat of the noise.
“It could be an animal—”
Wang Zhi waved a dismissive hand, scowling at the interruption, and took a couple steps to his left, scanning the number of trees up ahead. The ones he could see each were as large or larger than the one that the metalware had been stuffed under.
A sense of comprehension and incredulity flooded over Wang Zhi, quickly followed by a jolt of disquietude. “Check this area. Look around the roots. These trees must be hollow.”
The bandits had to be storing their stolen goods not just beneath the trees, but in them, somehow. The trunks were the only place large enough to store a number of items.
But are they large enough to store a man?
Wang Zhi stalked ahead of the soldier, slapping his palm against the nearest trunk and listening for any indication that it was hollowed out. He checked the ground, ducking down to see if there was another crevice dug out under the roots.
Thump.
This time, Wang Zhi heard the sound clearly. He didn’t think as he rushed to follow it, slipping slightly across a curve in the ground where the dirt was loose.
The sound of heavy rocks scattering erupted through the night, followed by a muffled groan. Wang Zhi’s eyes were drawn to an inconspicuous bit of earth near one of the smaller trees, where a sudden shift in the cloud cover allowed silver moonlight to illuminate the disturbing scene.
A hand stretched out from the ground, reaching for the sky. Soon it was followed by the rest of the body as a figure crawled out through a tangle of roots in a small mound that hardly seemed large enough to cover a dog.
Ding Rong.
Relief crashed over Wang Zhi like a wave on the stormy sea. He scrambled over, reaching the tree roots and rocks that Ding Rong had climbed out of just as he staggered upright.
Ding Rong peered around with a thunderous expression, as though searching for a fight. He squinted as the glare of the torchlight over Wang Zhi’s shoulder reached his eyes, and then he swayed and crumpled. Wang Zhi found himself diving, catching him before he could hit his head against the ground.
At close proximity, Wang Zhi could see the blood crusted down along the side of Ding Rong’s face. His eyelids fluttered, fighting to stay open.
It was through sheer tenacity that Ding Rong had managed to break his way out through hole in the ground. He looked filthier than Wang Zhi had ever seen him, dirt smearing his pale skin and dusting his clothes. His hair hung in tangles around his face, and almost as soon as Wang Zhi caught him, he attempted to rise again without assistance. His strength failed him and he collapsed back into Wang Zhi’s arms.
Ding Rong gripped Wang Zhi’s arm, his fingers digging in hard. His eyes stared distantly, whites reflecting the orange glow of the torch at one angle, and the silver of the moon from another. He blinked, and his gaze slid to the corner, looking determinedly at Wang Zhi as muscle in his jaw jumped. He was fine.
Wang Zhi held him tight for a moment as he caught his own breath. Yes, he thought, he’s fine.
After another beat, Wang Zhi checked over his shoulder, finding that the soldier with him had elected to stand a couple paces off and wait for direction. Wang Zhi indicated with a nod for the soldier to approach and help hoist Ding Rong up to his feet.
From there, it was a matter of supporting him past the most uneven areas of the ground. With each step, Ding Rong took a little bit more of his weight off of Wang Zhi, who nevertheless kept an arm fastened firmly across his back.
It was slow work, the three of them moving together to find the path back through the woods. They found the bandits’ cave first, and from there, the soldier was able to divine the direction back toward where the carriage would be waiting still.
The horse whinnied impatiently when it spotted their firelight and the soldier helped Wang Zhi and Ding Rong get into the carriage before hopping to untie it. He set a brisk pace across the plain, and though Wang Zhi wasn’t sure if their direction was for home or Nanhecheng, it made no difference.
He sat with Ding Rong in the pitch blackness of the carriage, sharing a bench even though there was a long edge that would be better for lying across for rest. Wang Zhi wished that he had kept a canteen of water in the carriage—Ding Rong was surely dehydrated after several hours in… who knew what state. Wang Zhi suspected that the hole in the ground he had been crammed into was far deeper than it appeared, though surely that did not make it any less miserable.
Ding Rong was as silent as a ghost, but Wang Zhi could feel his body moving with each breath he took, and his solid weight against Wang Zhi’s side was further evidence he had been recovered in one piece.
And it had almost been easy—Wang Zhi had gone back and forth in his search, but in the end, it was Ding Rong who had helped himself out of the prison the bandits had intended to keep him in. Trust Ding Rong to manage to save himself.
He’s capable like that.
Wang Zhi let out a soft scoff of laughter.
“What?” Ding Rong croaked. It was the first thing he had said since clawing out of the ground before Wang Zhi’s eyes.
He patted Ding Rong’s knee. “I had started to miss you, that’s all,” he said, feeling playful now that all in his little world in He Tao appeared to be back in order.
Ding Rong snorted, and attempted to sit upright, to regain some of his own space.
“You’re hurt. Don’t bother,” Wang Zhi said.
He stilled. “I wouldn’t want to burden you,” he said, still maintaining a formal tone even though his voice was barely louder than a rasp.
“You burdened me more when you weren’t here at all,” Wang Zhi replied.
Ding Rong didn’t say anything else, but he gave an irritable type of sigh. “You’re different now,” he said, echoing word-for-word the sentiment that Wang Zhi had heard months earlier. He sounded far less kind about it, though, the words in his mouth practically an accusation.
Wang Zhi raised his eyebrows, and thought about it from Ding Rong’s perspective. Well, it wasn’t as though he had changed for the worse. “Why does that upset you?”
Silence.
This again, Wang Zhi thought, displeased. “Do you know why I didn’t kill you?” he asked.
Without an answer, the air filled with the sound of the carriage creaking as they rolled along the bumpy ground.
“Take a guess.”
“I’m useful,” Ding Rong said.
Wang Zhi nodded. “You are useful,” he agreed, “but don't forget that I can still do a lot without you.”
Ding Rong shifted in his seat, trying once again to lean elsewhere. The carriage jumped over uneven ground, pushing him back toward the center of the bench, back into Wang Zhi.
He noticed a draft just then, coming in through the carriage from the outside wind. And Ding Rong’s cloak was long gone. “Sit forward a moment,” Wang Zhi ordered. He shifted over, tucking his cloak around Ding Rong’s side so it wrapped around them both.
Ding Rong stiffened for a second and then relaxed, as though resigning to his fate.
As he should, Wang Zhi thought, a little miffed. He wasn’t this nice to just anyone. “You are still living,” he finally explained, “Because I will it to be so. Because I help those who help me, and you have helped me longer than almost anyone.”
He heard Ding Rong draw a ragged breath, but he sounded his usual dry self when he murmured, “I didn’t realise I counted.”
Wang Zhi tilted his head, considering that for a moment before he reached into his pocket. He drew out Ding Rong’s identification pendant, which was discernible to the touch by being thinner and lighter than his own. Searching in the dark, he found Ding Rong’s hand, and placed the badge in the flat of his palm. He closed Ding Rong’s fingers over the pendant and kept them there covered by his own hand.
“Don’t lose this again,” he said. As he moved to let go, Ding Rong’s free hand closed tightly around his wrist, stopping him.
“You’ve changed,” he repeated, but this time he said it thoughtfully, like a revelation. Then he grew quiet and began to slump, exhaustion washing over him. The carriage jostled on with no more words, and though no one was around to see it, Wang Zhi allowed himself a smile.
#
Congratulations filled his ears throughout the day as word spread among the denizens of the city that nearly all of the missing supplies had been successfully recovered.
The clever burrows in the rocky woodland had been thoroughly searched in the morning after the initial raid, leading to the discovery of a network of tunnels which led to crates and sacks and bundles of hijacked goods.
Wang Zhi met with some of the local merchants and magistrates, reassuring them that the bandit threat had been dealt with, and would not cause any further issues.
He stopped by the local market on his way back from the administrative center, purchasing a number of snacks in what felt like an old habit, even though he had had very little chance or reason to do so since arriving at his new post. The city he lived in was one of the few in the He Tao region, and even labelling it was a city was a bit of a stretch. Still, it was more developed than the border towns like Guangning, and so there were still street vendors to purchase from, even if the snacks were of a northern palate, and there were few offerings to choose from.
Pastries were pastries, however.
Wang Zhi headed back through the streets on foot, conscious of the fact that the guards tailing him did not include the person typically at his side. It was a bit of an eyesore to be followed by soldiers in such conspicuous padding, but it wasn’t as though Wang Zhi’s identity was a secret.
He arrived at the small stone gate that led to the private home of Ding Rong, and rapped loudly against the wood of the door. It was unlocked, so he motioned at his guards to stay behind and stepped through the doorway and into the courtyard.
It was a modest house with two units, and the last time Wang Zhi had been inside the gates had been when Ding Rong still sat in jail and he was arranging suitable living quarters for a medium level official.
He strode over to the entrance of the unit straight ahead, dropping the bags of pastry on the small square table which sat in the center of the receiving room. There were but two plain bamboo chairs at the table, and, scanning the rest of the main room, Wang Zhi noted a lack of decoration around the space. It was not what he would have expected, but then again, most of Ding Rong’s possessions had probably been seized back at the capital. Wang Zhi wondered absently if he should send word to inquire into the status of those items, or if Ding Rong already had.
“What’s going on?”
He turned. Ding Rong stood in the entryway, dressed down to plain brown robes, a white bandage circling his head. He looked much better, in the sense that he was kempt, but he also looked worse for wear; there was some bruising around his jaw and scabbing scratches on his skin which Wang Zhi hadn’t noticed under the dirt and blood when they arrived back around dawn. He looked somewhat haggard, or maybe that was just the frown lines deepening on his face at finding Wang Zhi in his home.
Wang Zhi waved at the pastry bags on the table. “I thought I would visit.”
Ding Rong’s gaze followed the gesture to the pastries and his posture visibly relaxed. He had always slouched just a little in Wang Zhi’s presence, as though self-conscious of his comparative height, but with no one else around, his posture was markedly less hunched. He padded into the room and went to a corner where there was a small fire pit and a kettle for boiling water. “I’m not Tang Fan,” he said shortly, ladling drinking water from a nearby vessel and preparing a fire to heat the kettle. “You don’t need to bring me snacks.”
“Everyone needs to eat,” Wang Zhi countered, turning to peek into the kitchen in the next room. At a glance, it was clearly stocked for just one, and even that was questionable. “Now tell me honestly,” he said, “This isn’t your house, is it? It looks like nobody lives here. Have you considered renting out a room?”
Ding Rong placed the kettle on the small, lively fire he had succeeded in lighting. He looked up. “Have you eaten dinner?”
Wang Zhi perked up. “Will you make me food?”
Ding Rong smiled thinly, lips barely curving except at one corner. Over the years, he had frequently arranged for food to be prepared for Wang Zhi, but he never cooked with his own hand. However, they weren’t at the capital anymore, or even at the administrative center of the city. “I’m not Sui Zhou,” he said simply.
“No,” Wang Zhi agreed with a spark of exasperation, because that would make me Tang Fan, and that was a bit of a hellish thought. “You’re Ding Rong.”
Ding Rong nodded and crossed the room and went into the kitchen to fetch his teaware. Wang Zhi followed after, standing across the long kitchen counter and watching on as Ding Rong scooped tea leaves from his caddy and into a pot, his hand swift with practice.
Wang Zhi thought through the number of things he could say. Talking about matters of state or discussing future strategies would surely capture Ding Rong’s interest. He had not been around earlier that day to oversee the recovery of the lost supplies—although Wang Zhi was certain that he had nonetheless found someone to update him on what had happened. Then again, Wang Zhi hadn’t come to talk about any business in particular. He had come over to scratch the persistent itch of concern that had niggled at him throughout the day.
As he inspected Ding Rong, he could see a familiar reservation in his actions, his habitual subservience present even now in the way that his head was slightly bowed as he fixed up tea. But Wang Zhi could also distinguish the tight press of Ding Rong’s lips, which reflected a general dissatisfaction. That was new.
He had always found Ding Rong to be fairly straightforward and that simplicity was what made him an appealing and trustworthy right hand man. Yet, recently he had begun to wonder why it was that their dynamic hadn’t entirely returned to how it had been before. He had thought, being at a new post… it was almost like starting over again but at a higher place, wasn’t it? Yes, Sui Zhou had said Wang Zhi had changed—had become softer, friendlier, but then why …
Why hasn’t Ding Rong come back to me?
He thought they had understood one another, but he felt unfairly shut out. And after everything he had done to essentially reinstate Ding Rong to authority.
“You’ve changed, too,” Wang Zhi observed.
Ding Rong’s hands stilled and he glanced up, an odd look in his eye before he lowered his gaze again. He packed away the tea leaves and set the teapot on a tray with two cups and an empty plate. “If it displeases you, I will change back.”
Wang Zhi felt a smile tug at his lips and he followed Ding Rong back into the main room, where the kettle had begun to steam.
Ding Rong poured the hot water into the teapot as Wang Zhi pulled up a chair at the table.
“Do you always drink tea this late in the afternoon?” he wondered.
“If there is work to do.” Ding Rong set a portion of the pastries Wang Zhi had brought onto the empty plate and then sat at the adjacent edge of the table.
Steam from the steeping tea swirled from the spout of the teapot and into the air.
“You had the day off,” Wang Zhi pointed out. “You aren’t to return to work until tomorrow. Why are you brewing tea for me?”
“You brought me food. I should make you tea.” Ding Rong said. “And I should apologize.”
“For making me worry?” he teased.
Ding Rong pushed back his sleeves with a flourish and picked up the teapot, carefully pouring out some tea and extending the cup to Wang Zhi with a bowed head. “I should remember Wang Zhi’s mercy at all times and repent.”
Wang Zhi stared at the cup, not entirely sure whether the words were said in jest or not. Either way was possible and one was more sickening than the other. He accepted the tea with a finger tap, but then he put the cup down and reached over, slapping Ding Rong’s hands out of the way to fill the second cup of tea.
Ding Rong raised his eyebrows.
“If you try to apologize again, I won’t forgive you,” Wang Zhi said.
“I might betray you again.”
“Then I’ll have your head,” he retorted, and the semi-permanent furrow in Ding Rong’s brow smoothed, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk.
Wang Zhi nodded to himself. That was a bit more like it. “Anyway,” he said, picking up his tea cup and taking a sip first, “The trick with Yang Fu can’t be repeated and—by heaven’s blessing—I’ll be working for the betterment of the Ming Dynasty for a long time yet.” He watched Ding Rong’s face as he said this, but his examination was met with a steady, impassive stare.
He felt a twitch of annoyance, feeling strangely wronged. “What do you want me to say?” Wang Zhi burst out. “What will it take for you to be my—for you to stop waiting for me to change my mind? I won’t change my mind. You know I won’t.” He stood, rounded the table, and looked down. “Do you want to be punished? Did prison treat you too well?”
Ding Rong blinked.
“Do you want me to say I was angry?” Wang Zhi continued. He nodded. “I was furious. Your selfishness and greed put a lot at risk. It put His Majesty at risk.”
He could feel his pulse racing through his veins and he stepped closer, towering over Ding Rong for once. “But that’s all in the past,” he said. “His Majesty is safe and you are here, in the north with me. No one else is here. You are.”
Ding Rong’s hand rested on the table and Wang Zhi took it, clasping it firmly between his two. “Do you understand?”
Ding Rong watched him in silence, though the fact that he didn’t pull away spoke volumes itself. Finally, he rose to his feet, and as he did, he turned his hand in Wang Zhi’s, curling his fingers around his.
It was a bit of a strange feeling. Even though it was Wang Zhi who had grabbed Ding Rong’s hand, it struck him that no one had held his hand back like this since he was a very young child. Even then, it had been to lead him somewhere else. Ding Rong’s hand was much rougher than his own, callused from different work over the years.
His eyes were piercing, flitting back and forth as he searched over Wang Zhi’s face for something there. What, he looked for, Wang Zhi didn’t know.
“You should answer me when I ask a question,” he said lightly, although he could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He supposed Ding Rong could feel it, too.
As he gazed at Ding Rong, who was still studying him with eyes that seemed shinier than usual in the low lighting of the room, Wang Zhi made up his mind. He straightened up a little and then slowly—so slowly, affording Ding Rong every opportunity to duck away—he let go of Ding Rong’s hand and stepped closer instead. He snaked his arms around Ding Rong’s waist, pulling him into an embrace.
Pushing past his own sense of embarrassment, Wang Zhi pressed closer, tipping up on his toes and hooking his chin over Ding Rong’s shoulder, even as Ding Rong continued to stand as rigid as a board.
Another second passed, and then Wang Zhi felt him shudder slightly and melt against him. Ding Rong’s arms slipped around him, hugging him back tightly. His breath tickled the back of Wang Zhi’s neck as he murmured, “I’m here. No one else is. I understand.”
Wang Zhi closed his eyes for a moment, just holding on. “Good,” he said, “Don’t forget that.”
#