Undercurrent
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In the blink of an eye, March had arrived.
Winter clothes were shed, replaced by spring attire.
Summer Yunhe was no exception. However, her winter garments were thick enough to conceal her slender waist, while the spring clothes were thin, leaving her little choice but to wear loose garments. Her naturally slender frame, seen by others, only added an air of casual ease.
San Niang envied Summer Yunhe; it was a kind of elegance she had never encountered before—a presence unlike anyone else. Born into humble origins, she had been sold to the red-light district at an early age, witnessing all manner of strange guests and believing such a life to be normal. But now, seeing Summer Yunhe, she truly felt envy.
Having lived at the Summer residence for two months, her injuries had healed. Zhen Niang’s culinary skills were excellent, and San Niang noticed she was growing somewhat plumper lately.
The Summer household was superior to Xiahe Village; the food and lodging were all excellent. Secretly, San Niang sought out Xu Xing and slipped away to the theater to listen to operas, without Summer Yunhe noticing.
Of course, it was only what she thought. One evening, after the theater had emptied and dusk had fallen, returning to the Summer residence, the courtyard was silent. She tiptoed toward her room but heard Summer Yunhe’s cold voice from within: “Today’s performance of ‘The Love Detective’ was indeed splendid.”
Startled, San Niang’s legs trembled, and seeing Summer Yunhe’s stern expression, she hurriedly admitted her fault. Summer Yunhe merely snorted indifferently and raised the curtain to enter the house.
Only after asking Zhen Niang did she learn that Summer Yunhe’s bringing her back to the mansion had caused much chatter among the court officials. Rumors flew that Summer Yunhe and Chen Haizhou were rivals in jealousy, and the ministers greeted the news with scoffs.
Soon after, numerous bearded gentlemen came to visit, ostensibly to appreciate calligraphy and paintings but actually to see her and satisfy their curiosity. Their questions were strange but generally fell into three categories: Could she read? Could she understand music? Could she compose poetry?
San Niang’s answers were simple—she always shook her head. She was ignorant in these matters. Once, overhearing at a teahouse that “That third-ranking scholar, Xia Yizhi, has very poor taste,” she pricked up her ears and realized she and Summer Yunhe had become the subject of others’ ridicule.
No wonder Summer Yunhe furrowed her brows daily. San Niang felt troubled too.
With these gentlemen visiting so often, she hadn’t gone out for a long time and wondered how many operas she had missed.
Leaning on her chin, San Niang sat dazed beneath the eaves. Even Zhen Niang was allowed to go out shopping, while she was confined to the residence.
The gate opened, and two figures approached; the one in broad robes was Summer Yunhe, the other an unfamiliar gentleman, judging by his attire, another visitor of status.
San Niang rolled her eyes; almost a month had passed, and here they came again.
That gentleman exchanged pleasantries with Summer Yunhe, appreciating calligraphy together, then praised San Niang, asking the usual three questions, to which San Niang smiled and shook her head.
After seeing the guest off, the two breathed a sigh of relief.
San Niang imitated Zhen Niang and asked, “Young master, when will this end?”
Summer Yunhe exhaled, glanced at her, and smiled, “You’re doing well. If you dared to speak foolishly…”
San Niang quickly shook her head, “Never, never. Chen Haizhou is a wicked devil. You saved me that day, and I am forever grateful. I would never gossip to others.”
Summer Yunhe replied lightly, “Good. That’s best.”
With that, she lifted the curtain and entered the house.
Recently, though the court was calm, turmoil raged in Jiangdong. Rumors said the Marquis of Anhe was implicated in a Jiangdong bandit affair—truth unknown. The emperor had sent Chen Haizhou to investigate. Regardless of the outcome, the esteemed Marquis of Anhe was likely doomed.
Worrying about others was useless; Summer Yunhe herself was cautious in court each day.
Chen Haizhou was backed by Consort Wan, the elegant and resplendent concubine, elusive as a myth. Chen Haizhou held her secret firmly, threatening her silently. This vicious dog lurked, waiting for the moment to strike.
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Recalling the day at the tavern when the Fourth Prince had invited her to talk, weaving from politics to private affairs, weighing pros and cons, and within a single cup of tea, steering the conversation toward the Crown Prince and her relationship.
Summer Yunhe said, “Your Highness, the Fourth Prince, still playing advocate for the Crown Prince?”
The Fourth Prince smiled, “Do you not understand, Lord Xia? In matters of power and strategy, I pride myself. The Crown Prince only benefits from his birth.” He paused, eyes dark and resolute, “Lord Xia, why not lend me your hand?”
His aim was the Crown Prince’s position. Summer Yunhe remained silent for a long moment, then answered, “Your Highness, I am tutor to the Seventh Prince. Divided loyalties are unbefitting. I am but a scholar, powerless to aid Your Highness, only adding trouble. I am the emperor’s servant, and obey His Majesty’s command alone.”
The Fourth Prince sneered, appraised her from head to foot, then swept his sleeve and left.
The factions were tangled and complex. Summer Yunhe massaged her temples, feeling vexed. Rather than fret over palace intrigues, she resolved to focus on rebuilding the Night Watch to better defend against the northern tribes.
Calming herself, she retrieved the military manual Chen Haizhou had provided.
The Night Watch had two types: the “Long Sentries,” stationed 50 to 100 li from the border, and the “Far Sentries,” covering several hundred li.
Information gathering divided into “Sharp Sentries” and “Dark Sentries.” Sharp Sentries, or “Bright Sentries,” were those who “travel from the border into enemy territory, often mingling with hostile camps, staying months to gather intelligence,” fluent in the enemy’s language. Dark Sentries, or “Hidden Sentries,” supported the Sharp Sentries, “watching constantly and communicating directions.” The two worked in tandem, known as “Bright Sentries tread tiger’s den, Dark Sentries tread tiger’s tail.”
They specialized in raids, scouting, ambushes, burning fields, and persuading surrenders—frequent border operations despised by the tribes.
…
Summer Yunhe sighed softly, looking up from the manual just as San Niang peeked through the door, timidly asking, “Young master, since you have me act like this, won’t those gentlemen mock you? I hear the street is already full of rumors.”
She remained silent, only watching San Niang, who bit her lip, fiddled with the doorframe until her fingertips turned pale, and shyly said, “I’m not completely helpless—I can sing opera. If those gentlemen come again, I could sing for them. The bad things said about you on the street, actually, well…”
“I don’t need your help, but you must be cautious with your words to stay safe. If I fall, you will not escape either.”
“Then, does Lord Chen know… your identity?”
“That’s none of your concern. If you’re bored, you can wash the piled-up dirty clothes and help Zhen Niang a bit.”
San Niang frowned, pouted, and shuffled back from the door.
The murmurs of court officials reached Summer Yunhe’s ears: “What kind of woman is she, to cause two ministers to feud over her?” “I want to see for myself; just visit Lord Xia’s mansion.”
Afterward, they whispered again, “She neither plays the zither nor paints, nor understands poetry; Xia Yizhi’s taste is poor.”
Her taste, they dared not mock Chen Haizhou, but her they teased endlessly.
This Summer Yunhe knew, and there were things she did not.
When this reached Chen Haizhou, he heard, “Lord Chen is no match for Xia Yizhi. A flower falls with affection, but the water flows indifferent—such is life.” Seeing Chen Haizhou frown and glare, they added, “Haha, Lord Chen, don’t lose heart. The next one will be better, the next one better.”
Fortunately, Chen Haizhou soon departed for Jiangdong, easing tensions. Attention then turned to Summer Yunhe and San Niang. For nearly a month, inquiries into the Summer household yielded nothing. San Niang and Zhen Niang kept tight lips; if asked three questions wrong, they turned and left.
All in the capital knew except the children that Chen Haizhou’s journey to Jiangdong would stir trouble. Within three months, Jiangdong would be in mourning, and the capital rife with panic, as if mocking Summer Yunhe more could soothe their empty, numb hearts.
Summer Yunhe sat at home, shutting out the outside clamor, focused on the Night Watch’s military manual. The door curtain lifted slightly; she thought it was San Niang disturbing her and said irritably, “San Niang, the clothes are drying in the courtyard. No need to ask again.”
But a male voice, like distant thunder with a dusty scent, shattered the quiet.
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“Young master, it’s me, Fu San.”
Summer Yunhe froze, as if struck, then suddenly raised her head. Her eyes gleamed with disbelief.
She quickly rose, stepping forward two paces, her gaze fixed on the figure at the door. Fu San stood there in traveling merchant’s garb, worn and weary, yet his eyes were bright.
Summer Yunhe’s voice trembled with excitement, enunciating each word, “Master San, is everything well?”
Fu San chuckled twice, wiped his nose, and pulled a coarse linen handkerchief from his bosom. Unfolding it in his palm lay a black sandalwood thumb ring, ancient and polished. Carefully, he wiped it and solemnly handed it to Summer Yunhe.
“At first, no one believed it. When the family’s ring was shown, the elders immediately complied, saying all must follow the family head’s orders. Now there are twenty or thirty of us—though not many, each is battle-hardened. These months, I have traveled throughout Yin County and even ventured beyond the passes, young master…”
Summer Yunhe stopped him, lifted the curtain, and looked into the courtyard. There, on the drying rack hung a few dripping garments. Zhen Niang, carrying a basket of vegetables, walked shoulder to shoulder with San Niang, heads bent close, whispering softly. Sunlight filtered through sparse clouds, casting gentle shadows upon them.
She called out, “Zhen Niang, prepare some good dishes to welcome Master San.”
Zhen Niang looked up, nodded slightly to Fu San with a smile, ceased chatting with San Niang, and went toward the kitchen with her basket. San Niang glanced around, blinked, and said, “Young master, I’ll go help.”
Fu San stroked the three whiskers on his cheek, puzzled, whispering, “Young master, I haven’t seen this girl before. Does she know your identity?”
Summer Yunhe glanced at the white clouds above, feeling at ease, lightly patted Fu San’s shoulder, and invited him inside, seating him near the foot of the table. Fu San glanced toward the kitchen and asked again, “Young master, does that girl truly know who you are?”
Summer Yunhe replied slowly, “She does.”
Fu San suddenly jumped up from his chair, scratched his head with both hands, paced anxiously in the room, face full of panic.
“The matriarch said your identity must never be revealed. What shall we do?”
His brow furrowed deeply, eyes flashing with resolve. “Or I could…” Fu San raised his right hand to his neck and made a harsh cutting gesture.
Summer Yunhe chuckled softly, playing with her brush pen, “Not only does she know, but there is another who knows. If you can deal with this person…”
Before she finished, Fu San pounded his chest and confidently promised, “Rest assured, young master. I, Fu San, am a Summer family man, to die a Summer ghost. Leave this to me, and I guarantee it will be handled perfectly, with no mistakes.”
“Chen Haizhou.”
Fu San froze, mouth slightly open, softly questioning, “Huh?”
Summer Yunhe thought he hadn’t heard clearly and repeated, raising an eyebrow at Fu San, “Master San, do you dare?”
He collapsed back into his chair, frowning deeply, mouth agape. Suddenly, the sound of porcelain crashing outside filled the room.
Someone was eavesdropping!