Chapter 82: The Nameless Youth

Busyness made time fly by; before she realized it, autumn had passed and winter had arrived. In the early morning, watching the delicate snowflakes drifting from the sky, An Yi became aware that the end of the year had come once more. She reached out to catch a few flakes.

She looked down at the snow melting slowly in her palm. Another year had slipped away just like that. The thirty-two kinds of pills and fourteen ointments recorded in the “Prescriptions for a Thousand Gold,” all had been prepared according to Ji Fanyi’s instructions. Of the twenty-seven poisons from the “Divine Compendium of Elixirs,” five had already been concocted. When all were finished, she could leave this place and head to the capital to settle accounts with An Qinghe.

Thinking of the ruthless An Qinghe, a chill flickered deep in An Yi’s dark eyes. She drew out a handkerchief, wiped away the moisture, put on her snow cap, and headed downstairs to the stone house to prepare medicine.

As soon as An Yi pushed open the courtyard gate, a cold gleam of steel flashed toward her. Unfazed, she neither dodged nor flinched, calmly watching as the treasured sword halted just a finger’s width from her.

“Nineteen, you didn’t dodge again. What if your master lost her grip and ruined your beautiful face?” Ji Fanyi pouted and stamped her foot in vexation.

“Master, you just turned sixty-one yesterday,” An Yi replied calmly, brushing aside the sword and walking past Ji Fanyi.

Ji Fanyi was momentarily stunned, then, coming to her senses, pouted even harder and stamped her foot with determination. “So what if I’m sixty-one? I’ll pout if I want to, I’ll stamp my feet if I please. I will, I will! You wicked Nineteen, you wicked girl!”

An Yi paid her no heed. Her master, an old child at heart, acted childish every few days—by now, she was used to it.

That morning, after soaking in a medicinal bath, An Yi was led by Ji Fanyi to the dungeon where the human test subjects were kept.

The dungeon was dry and comfortably arranged. More than a dozen people were held inside, men and women, the youngest sixteen, the oldest fifty.

The key to the dungeon was always kept by Ji Fanyi herself. Since Hu Qingyue had not been chosen to study medicine, she had never been here and did not know this place existed in the residence. This was An Yi’s first visit, brought here by Ji Fanyi, who ordered her to select one test subject for live acupuncture practice.

As the test subjects emerged from their cells, An Yi’s gaze flickered. Their existence was proof of Ji Fanyi’s darker side.

Acupuncture, unlike drug testing, could warm and circulate the blood and qi, support the righteous and dispel evil, treat illness, and even prevent disease. An Yi felt no psychological burden. She chose a healthy-looking woman of about twenty.

“Baihui point.”

“Shenting point.”

“Yingxiang point.”

“Tinggong point.”

Ji Fanyi named the acupoints, and An Yi needled them.

Having encountered acupuncture in the modern world, An Yi had memorized the points under Physician Lu’s guidance, and once again under Ji Fanyi. Her needling was quick and precise.

“Shimen point.”

An Yi frowned slightly. “If a woman is needled at Shimen, she will be barren for life.”

Ji Fanyi sighed and shook her head. “Nineteen, if only your talent for martial arts matched this, how wonderful it would be.”

An Yi had no answer. She silently withdrew the silver needles, soaked them in medicinal solution to disinfect them, and placed them back in their case one by one.

After lunch and a brief meditation, An Yi went to the right chamber to make medicine. Ji Fanyi headed to the left, busying herself with her collection of poisonous creatures. With the snakes and toads hibernating, only scorpions, spiders, and centipedes could keep her entertained.

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Bang, bang, bang!” Three signal arrows shot skyward and exploded into red smoke.

Ji Fanyi set down her multicolored spider, darted out the door, and squinted at the fading smoke in the sky. “Nineteen, I must go out for a while.”

With those words, Ji Fanyi leapt onto the rooftop with lightness skill and vanished like a shooting star.

Preoccupied with grinding various medicinal ingredients into powder, An Yi didn’t catch what Ji Fanyi had said.

As dusk fell, An Yi triggered the mechanism to light the oil lamps in her room, mixed the powder with sacred ferment, rolled it into pills, and placed them in a wooden box. She took the box to the right chamber to find Ji Fanyi, but found the door ajar and the room empty.

Turning around, she was suddenly blocked by two enormous, multicolored spiders descending from the ceiling. Her face paled, body stiffened—she feared not snakes, scorpions, centipedes, or toads, but had always dreaded hairy spiders. Frowning, she retreated a couple of steps. Having a master who delighted in teasing her apprentice was a bitter pill to swallow.

She looked around for a stick or something to shoo the spiders away, but found nothing suitable. Instead, she noticed more than a dozen large spiders crawling on the walls and floor, making her skin crawl with fright.

Suspecting Ji Fanyi of mischief, An Yi, well aware of her master’s penchant for pranks, knew that showing weakness would only encourage further torment. Carefully avoiding one approaching spider, she prepared to fetch her flying needles from the cabinet—if she killed the spiders, she could leave.

Just then, a voice sounded from the roof. “Miss, don’t be afraid, I’ll save you!”

An Yi was momentarily startled, a strange light flickering in her eyes.

Moments later, a masked man in black appeared at the door, wielding a long sword. With a few swift strikes, several spiders were slain. He grabbed An Yi and dashed outside.

An Yi remained calm, following him without resistance.

Once outside the courtyard, the man sensed something was amiss and stopped to scrutinize An Yi. “You came to steal, so why aren’t you wearing nightclothes?”

Before he finished speaking, An Yi’s fingers flew, sealing several major acupoints on his chest. Luckily, his clothes were not too thick, or her meager internal strength would not have sufficed to seal the points through fabric.

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief. “So you repay kindness with enmity!”

An Yi took his sword, tore off his mask, and saw a handsome youth of fifteen or sixteen. So young, yet already a thief. She snorted, drew a silver flute from her sleeve, and blew two sharp notes.

Soon, several figures arrived. Six robust women stood before An Yi and bowed respectfully. “Miss Nineteen.”

That title was enough to reveal An Yi’s identity. The young man looked chagrined—not only had he rescued the wrong person and exposed himself, but now he’d been captured. Never mind the favor he owed another, now he would have to find a way to escape—what a bother.

“Tie him up and take him to the Scorpion Prison—guard him well,” An Yi ordered sternly.

Two women pulled out hemp ropes, bound the youth, and escorted him away.

“Where is Madam?” An Yi wondered aloud. With an intruder, Ji Fanyi should have appeared by now, even if she’d been plotting a trick.

“Madam went out.”

“When? Where to?”

“Madam left at the start of Shen hour. She didn’t say where, and I don’t know.”

An Yi frowned. “The alarm web failed; it did not sound. Check the system and repair it immediately. No one must break in again.”

“Yes, miss,” the other four replied and hurried off.

An Yi returned to her room and shut the door to the right chamber. She dared not touch the spiders, so she let them be until her master returned. She triggered the mechanism to extinguish the lights, returned to the Bamboo Pavilion, dined alone, read for half an hour, washed up, and went to bed.

The next morning, after breakfast, Aunt Chen came in and said, “Miss Nineteen, the man we caught yesterday, called Bai Wuming, is clamoring to see you.”

Bai Wuming?

An Yi frowned—the name sounded vaguely familiar, but no matter how she thought, she could not recall it. She asked, “Has Madam not returned yet?”

“Madam hasn’t come back.”

After a moment’s thought, An Yi rose and went to the Scorpion Prison to see Bai Wuming.

Bai Wuming lounged on the wooden bed, chewing a stalk of straw. When he saw An Yi, it was as if he’d seen the Bodhisattva herself. He rushed to the bars and grasped them. “Miss Nineteen, for the sake of saving you from the spider array yesterday, let me go. I was just passing through, I meant no harm.”

An Yi snorted softly. Such lies, and he dared say them to her face. She turned to leave, not wishing to waste her time.

“Miss Nineteen!” Bai Wuming called urgently.

She turned back, expressionless.

“I came to buy Red-stemmed Ganoderma and Snow Lotus.”

An Yi raised her brows, a mocking smile on her lips. “Buy?”

“Not buy—steal,” Bai Wuming admitted with embarrassment. “But I didn’t succeed and you lost nothing. Let me go, I swear it won’t happen again.”

“How did you know there’s Red-stemmed Ganoderma and Snow Lotus here?” An Yi asked.

“I heard it from someone.”

“Who?”

“Gao Yu.”

“How did he know?”

“Gao Yu’s nickname is ‘Ears of the Wind.’ In the martial world, there’s nothing he doesn’t know. If you have the money, you can buy any information you want from him.” A gleam flashed in Bai Wuming’s eyes. This girl wasn’t versed in the ways of the jianghu—she could surely be fooled into letting him go.

An Yi’s gaze shifted. “Why do you need these two medicines?”

Bai Wuming’s expression turned sorrowful. “I had no choice. My sister is gravely ill; these two herbs are essential as a medicinal guide. Miss Nineteen, I know that stealing is not the way of a gentleman, but I was deceived by Gao Yu and forced to this desperate measure. He told me the owner here is eccentric and would never sell these herbs to me. Had I known you were the owner, I would have visited openly to purchase them. With your sense of justice, you surely would have sold me these life-saving medicines.”

An Yi looked at Bai Wuming, shook her head, and turned to leave.

“Miss Nineteen!” Bai Wuming called after her.

She did not look back.

“Miss Nineteen! Miss Nineteen!” Bai Wuming watched her retreating figure and stroked his chin. This girl was truly odd. His glib tongue, usually so effective, had failed—he would have to think of another way.

After leaving the Scorpion Prison, An Yi summoned the guard. “Don’t watch him too closely tonight. If he tries to escape, let him.”

The woman was surprised, glanced up at An Yi, then lowered her head. “Shall I have someone follow him?”

“No, let him be,” An Yi replied indifferently.

Attempted theft was not a capital crime.

She went to the medicine storeroom and moved the Red-stemmed Ganoderma and Snow Lotus to a different hiding place.

Another day passed, but Ji Fanyi had still not returned. At midnight, though the guards at the Scorpion Prison intentionally left their posts, Bai Wuming did not escape. He slept soundly on the wooden bed, oblivious to all.