Chapter 19: Hesitation Means Defeat

At the word "kill," Diwu Lun's hand went straight to the blade at his waist.

He carried a medium ring-pommel saber, about three chi long, forged from wrought iron, worth no more than a few thousand coins — tempered maybe a dozen times at most, not quite "steel." The sharpened edge was probably duller than a future kitchen cleaver, yet for this age it still counted as a fine blade.

In a life-or-death moment, time seemed to slow. Diwu Lun held the scabbard with his left hand, gripped the red-cord-wrapped hilt with his right and drew, his eyes locked on his opponent's movements, his mind racing through how to respond.

How do you fight bow and arrow with a short weapon? Diwu Lun had heard his grandfather tell of his battles against the Hu people of the Western Regions. If the opponent was a veteran, at such close range he wouldn't need a full draw — half-draw was enough to wound.

Within the ten paces it would take to charge him, the assassin could loose two or three arrows in succession. Diwu Lun couldn't gamble on the man's aim being poor, and worse, he himself was still on horseback, able to widen the distance fast — he'd likely never get the chance to close in for hand-to-hand combat.

The ring-pommel saber was already half-drawn, and the other man had already unstrung his bow. Diwu Lun hit on an idea.

Strike from a distance with the blade!

This knife-throwing technique was quite popular among the wandering gallants of the common folk. Diwu Ba was formidable at it — from seven or eight paces he could hurl a blade with all his strength and drive the tip clean into an opposite willow trunk, several cun deep. But no matter how Diwu Lun practiced, it never felt right, and with an experienced opponent keeping his distance so well, beyond ten paces the accuracy of a thrown knife would drop sharply.

Besides, he only had this one ring-pommel saber. If he threw it and missed, like Jing Ke's attempt on the King of Qin, it would all be over.

The deliberation lasted only a flash. With a sharp shing, Diwu Lun drew the blade fully out.

Yet he did not charge forward howling, nor did he stake everything on one throw. Instead, he ducked his head, nimbly leaped down from the carriage and hid behind it, using the body of the vehicle to block the other man's line of sight.

Pressed against the carriage, breathing lightly, Diwu Lun laid out his plan: "This man is bold, attacking me in broad daylight on the main road to the county seat. But sooner or later someone will pass by. The assassin can't afford to drag this out. Once he gets impatient, he'll ride around to the front to close the distance. That instant — that's my chance to pounce and fight him up close!"

He was Diwu Ba's grandson, after all — he still had some martial skill. Through these days of training, his body's memory had gradually returned. Though he still couldn't last three bouts against the old man, he could now trade blows evenly with the estate's retainers.

He used the wrist cord to tie the hilt tightly to his wrist, so it wouldn't slip from his grip in the coming fight. The tension made the veins stand out along his jaw.

But Diwu Lun waited behind the carriage, drenched in sweat, for several breaths — and still did not see the man spur his horse forward. When he glimpsed the distant shapes of other carts and horses approaching, his heart surged with both relief and confusion.

Relief, because stalling meant escape. Confusion, because — did this man not understand that hesitation means defeat?

"Diwu Boyu."

The man's voice rang out again, still unhurried: "I did not finish speaking earlier. It is true that I was hired to kill you. But when I made inquiries in the county, I heard only praise for your humility and filial devotion, and no word of wrongdoing. To kill you would violate the chivalry of men like us."

A joke — did he think a cheap trick like that would make me stick my head out for an arrow?

Diwu Lun didn't take the bait. He only crouched lower and peered through the gaps between the wheels. The four horse hooves were still ten paces away, pawing the dirt impatiently.

So Diwu Lun turned the ruse back on him and shouted, "If what you say is true, then throw away your bow, and I'll believe you!"

No sooner had he shouted than a crisp crack sounded — the man tossed something to the ground. It really was the bow he'd been holding moments before! Snapped clean in two.

This is... for real? But to break a horn bow with his bare hands — that strength is monstrous.

The man spoke again. Even at this critical juncture, his tone was still like lukewarm water: "The ancients said that filial devotion, fraternal duty, loyalty, and trustworthiness can withstand even stout armor and sharp blades. This bow was not broken by me, but by the benevolence and fraternal duty of a gentleman. I nearly harmed a worthy man by mistake, so I shall not come again. Farewell!"

The moment his words ended, the four hooves began to move. The man had indeed turned and left, which left Diwu Lun somewhat dazed. Fearing a feigned retreat, he waited until the hoofbeats had nearly faded before cautiously rising to steal a glance — and sure enough, a lone rider's silhouette was growing more and more distant.

Diwu Lun was speechless. He stepped up onto the carriage in one stride and roared after the silhouette: "Your lofty honor, good sir — at least leave me your name!"

If you don't leave your name, how do I find you? If I can't find you, how do I ferret out the one who hired you? If I don't catch the mastermind behind this, how can I ever rest easy?

The man seemed to hear him, but only turned back to clasp his fist in salute without answering. Then he picked up speed, faster and faster, until even the yellow dust kicked up from the road had settled clean.

"That man is sick."

So Diwu Lun cursed, clutching his chest and finding his heart still pounding wildly. Only the lingering fear remained.

A good thing the assassin truly was sick — afflicted with the moral sickness that plagued so many in this era. Had it been some utterly vicious cutthroat, today would have been a bitter fight, and his own life or death would have been hard to predict.

His driving skills were poor, so he gave up on chasing with the carriage. He only picked up the broken bow and found the materials were fine — it must have been quite expensive. Turning it over, he spotted a small clerical-script character carved on the tip of the bow's siyah.

"Wan."

Could the assassin's surname be Wan?

A rustling sound came from behind him. Diwu Lun immediately gripped his blade and spun around, startling Diwu Fu, who had just returned from relieving himself, into freezing on the spot. "Young... young master, I heard shouting — what happened? Why have you drawn your blade?"

"Get on the carriage."

Diwu Lun sheathed his blade with a scowl. "We're going home!"

Home they would certainly go. This assassination attempt, a false alarm though it proved, taught Diwu Lun not to be reckless again. He had Diwu Fu drive the carriage back the way they came, stopping to question every post station along the route.

The post stations along the main road by Linqu Township all knew Diwu Lun by now and respected his reputation, so they were quite willing to help. One young Precinct Chief with a deeply sun-darkened face even volunteered eagerly, boasting of his formidable skill in solving cases — he'd already cracked tomb-robbing cases, kidnapping cases, murder cases, and more. Brimming with confidence, he followed the assassin's hoofprints to track the killer.

But after a few li, the hoofprints merged with the footprints and wheel ruts of passing traffic, and the Precinct Chief was at a dead end.

Yet at the next post station, Diwu Lun did gain something.

"This man came in the afternoon, said he was from Maoling in Jingwei Commandery. He stopped at the post for a drink of water. I also checked his travel permit — his name was... You Jun."

You Jun? Diwu Lun frowned as he looked at the record the post chief handed him. The bow siyah was clearly carved with "Wan." The assassin must have used a false name. Travel permits in the Xin Dynasty were like letters of introduction — easy to forge.

But the post soldier also said the man indeed had a Maoling accent, so his place of origin was probably real. Yet Maoling's population was even larger than their own Changling — searching there would be like fishing a needle from the sea.

The posts further on couldn't even provide that much of a lead, so Diwu Lun had no choice but to return home and tell Diwu Ba what had happened.

"Who? Who dares hire a killer to murder my grandson! I'll go take his dog life first!"

Diwu Ba exploded with fury on the spot. His first instinct was to think of the Diyi and Diqi clans, with whom their family had a feud. Cursing and swearing, he was about to go looking for trouble when Diwu Lun managed to talk him down.

"Grandfather, right now our family has no proof — we can only rely on guesswork. There's no need to act rashly. Let's first send a few retainers to follow the main road and ask all the way to Maoling, and start looking for clues."

As for whether they'd find anything — heaven only knew.

After all this turmoil, Diwu Lun still had to set out again for Changping Hostel. Every matter had two sides. While he had won the allegiance of the Diliu and Diba clans and goodwill from the Disi clan, his family had also made enemies of the Diyi and Diqi. And that Qiongcheng Marquis, Wang Yuan, was a major figure — he certainly couldn't be offended without cause.

But a fall into a pit, a gain in wit. This time Diwu Lun brought along two retainers with decent martial skills and placed ranged weapons in the carriage.

"Grandfather."

As he left the house, Diwu Lun looked back and said, "Starting the day after tomorrow, I'll not only keep learning the saber — I'm going to learn archery properly, too!"

On the ninth day of the ninth month, Diwu Lun, having spent the night in the county seat, rose early. He first went to the commandery office to submit a visiting card, hoping to pay his respects to Grand Governor Zhang Zhan and "beg forgiveness" for declining the appointment.

In this era, the rituals of personal courtesy weighed far heavier than in later times — the details could not be overlooked.

Unfortunately, he was told by a minor clerk at the commandery office that Zhang Zhan had received an imperial summons the day before and had already left for the capital, Chang'an.

Nothing to be done, then — he'd have to come another day. Still, Diwu Lun didn't need to worry about Zhang Zhan growing angry over his refusal, because the matter of his "twice declining commandery and county appointments" had already spread throughout the county seat.

This was not something Diwu Lun had sent people to broadcast, nor had the Grand Governor permitted his subordinates to leak it. It showed that the man did not view it as a disgrace — rather, he was happy to see it spread. Diwu Lun had been fortunate: he'd met a fine Grand Governor.

Breakfast had just passed, and the hour was still early. Diwu Lun remembered that Jing Dan had mentioned his address last time, so he headed to the eastern ward of the city to say hello.

The wards inside the city were much like those in the countryside — they too had walls and ward gates, only more orderly and compact. Houses were not built scattered here and there, for land in the city was expensive after all. This Changling… Changping County counted as a second-tier city right beside the capital region.

Diwu Lun had just reached the ward gate of the eastern ward when he met a horse-drawn carriage coming out. Two white horses were harnessed in front, and a man knelt sitting inside — in his thirties, fair-faced with a short beard, dressed in everyday clothes and wearing a small cap.

Diwu Lun did not recognize him at first. Only when the two carriages were passing wheel to wheel did the other man let out an "Eh?": "Boyu?"

Looking again, it turned out to be Jing Dan. He had changed out of his official robes and black cloth cap today, so Diwu Lun had failed to recognize him and hurriedly apologized for the slight.

Jing Dan took no offense. On the contrary, he was delighted that Diwu Lun had kept his word and come to find him. After asking a few more questions, Jing Dan clapped his hands and laughed, then drew from his bosom that finely crafted wooden invitation with its neat, precise calligraphy.

"What a coincidence — I too received an invitation from the Marquis of Qiongcheng today, to attend a banquet at Changping Lodge. Boyu can come along with me as my companion."

He pointed at Diwu Lun and laughed again: "The Marquis of Qiongcheng's Double Ninth banquet is a grand gathering where the powerful families and renowned scholars of the commandery all assemble. That Boyu could receive his invitation shows your reputation has already caught the eye of the ward's leading households. You should indeed go and see — who knows, you might even find a fine match!"

Diwu Lun repeatedly protested that he dared not presume, but under Jing Dan's warm insistence, he joined him and rode in the same carriage.

Jing Dan turned his head to look back at Diwu Lun's carriage. It had a canopy but no excessive decoration. Though it was drawn by two horses and both were stallions, their coat colors did not match — one was a black horse, the other a gua horse, yellow-coated with a black muzzle.

He knew that although Diwu Lun's family was a leading household in the ward, they were not wealthy, and had invested heavily in the charity granary and other matters. They had few horses to begin with, and likely could not produce a matched pair of stallions of the same color. Even nags cost several thousand or even ten thousand cash, and with coin debased nowadays, they were even more expensive.

Jing Dan kindly offered: "Boyu, shall I borrow a black horse in the city to make a matched pair for you?"

A matched pair meant two horses of the same color. Diwu Lun paused, grasped his meaning, and asked: "If I go to the banquet without a matched pair, would that be a breach of etiquette?"

"Not exactly… it is just that, with the current extravagant climate, and the marquis's residence having such a high threshold, all the guests attending will have matched pairs."

So he was worried about him losing face. It was just like going to a banquet or a class reunion in later ages, where everyone compares what car they drive — Porsche owners looking down on BMWs and Audis!

To think that after transmigrating, he would still run into this sort of thing. Was he attending some socialite's banquet? He only wondered what awaited him.

After thinking it over, Diwu Lun smiled calmly and said: "Since it is not a breach of decorum, then there is no need. Let things take their natural course."

Jing Dan nodded. After a moment's thought, however, he still stopped by the ward gate and sent a servant back. Before long, the servant led out a yellow piebald horse, but instead of giving it to Diwu Lun, he swapped it onto his own carriage.

Now, Jing Dan's two horses were no longer the same color either.

Diwu Lun inwardly exclaimed at the expert move — this man's emotional intelligence was off the charts! Last time at Diwu Ward, he had deliberately slowed his pace when he smelled the wine; now he went out of his way to protect his dignity, even at his own expense. In that moment, Diwu Lun was truly moved.

But when Diwu Lun bowed wordlessly in thanks, Jing Dan raised him up and laughed heartily: "I won't hide it from you, Boyu — my matched white horses were actually borrowed from a neighbor to make a pair. Boyu's true nature puts me to shame, so I might as well drop the pretense too!"

So he had cobbled his together as well. In truth, Jing Dan recalled that he had come to Liewei Commandery to serve as an official precisely to be recommended as "Incorrupt Official" under the Filial and Incorrupt system.

How could an incorrupt official afford carriage horses of matching color? How could a student receiving poverty aid in later ages afford an iPhone? The same logic.

Jing Dan only thought to himself: "Boyu is able to be consistent inside and out, never disguising his origins. This is what the Sage meant by 'wearing coarse cloth while harboring jade within.' I should take him as my model."