Volume One: Menial Servant of Changshui County Chapter Eleven: How Can One Find Freedom Amidst the Worldly Dust?

In the elegantly appointed room, a brazier blazed with charcoal, keeping the chill at bay. The woman, whose features were as finely drawn as a painting, shrugged off her cloak. Clad only in a floor-length white dress, she seated herself by the warmth.

Lu Jiuzhang crossed his legs and sat down as well.

A set of antique tea ware rested nearby. The woman rose slightly, lifting the teapot and pouring two cups of clear tea. In that instant, the fragrance of the leaves drifted to Lu Jiuzhang’s nose.

"May I know your name, miss?" Lu Jiuzhang inquired.

"A woman who has given herself to a brothel—what use is a fine name? You may call me Evening Cloud," she replied softly.

Evening Cloud.

Miss Evening Cloud?

Wasn't she his elder brother Lu Huaigu’s mistress?

A wave of disappointment washed over Lu Jiuzhang. He had expected some dramatic encounter tonight, but it seemed he had overthought things.

"My elder brother should be buried in the coming days. I must trouble you to see him off one last time," Lu Jiuzhang said, thinking Evening Cloud had summoned him because of Lu Huaigu.

"The departed are gone—why cling to the past?" Evening Cloud shook her head.

Her face betrayed not a trace of sorrow.

Actresses are heartless; courtesans are faithless.

Suddenly, Lu Jiuzhang understood the truth behind those words. Though she had known his brother for so long, she would not even see him off after his death.

A sense of desolation welled up in him. Perhaps this was the world as it truly was. While his brother lived, he was a government officer, a man of some standing. Now that he was dead, he held no value in her eyes.

Lu Jiuzhang stood up. "It's getting late, Miss Evening Cloud. You should rest."

With that, he left her room.

Through the window, Evening Cloud watched his retreating figure and murmured to herself, "How very much like him..."

Then she lowered her head, and two lines of clear tears traced her cheeks.

"How could I not go to see him off? How could I not think of him?"

Biting her lip, Evening Cloud wept softly.

There was too much tangled up in it all—who could remain untouched? In this world of dust and longing, how many people can truly live unburdened?

...

Outside the Red Lotus Pavilion, the guests had either chosen to stay the night or already departed. On the empty street, Lu Jiuzhang carried a lantern, his shadow stretched long behind him. Snow fell thicker from the dark sky. By morning, surely the world would be clad in white, a vast, snow-covered expanse.

Back in his room, Lu Jiuzhang lay awake for a long time.

Elsewhere within the Red Lotus Pavilion, Evening Cloud’s pillow was already soaked with tears.

Tonight, it seemed, no one could find sleep...

The next day, at the Demon Execution Office.

Compared to his restraint the day before, Lu Jiuzhang was much more at ease now. At the very least, he no longer needed to be so guarded when speaking to others.

In the guardroom, his colleagues were as idle as ever, chatting and gambling with dice.

Wang Yunshan was off duty today and did not come in.

However, one colleague who had accompanied him to the Red Lotus Pavilion the previous night strolled over and teased, "Lu, you look exhausted! Did you have a good time last night? Not very brotherly of you, enjoying yourself and leaving us out!"

This man was Song Tao, about thirty, stocky, and tall, with considerable strength. He’d been on good terms with Lu Huaigu while the latter lived; they were drinking companions, often frequenting brothels and opera houses together.

"Brother Song, what good fortune do you imagine I had? It was you lot who left without calling me—I had to go home alone!" Lu Jiuzhang replied with equal playfulness. "Next time you owe me a drink, or I’ll never forgive you."

"No problem! Once I get my wages next month, it’s my treat," Song Tao laughed.

Just then, a peal of thunderous drumming echoed from outside.

Boom, boom, boom... boom, boom, boom... boom, boom, boom...

The drumbeat was urgent: three beats, a pause, then three more.

"The summons!" Song Tao whispered, hastily gathering his things. He explained to Lu Jiuzhang, "Demon Execution Office’s summons. That means there are demons nearby, and not weak ones either."

The entire guardroom burst into activity, each man preparing his gear.

Lu Jiuzhang had little to pack, but Song Tao handed him a sabre.

"This was your elder brother’s weapon. Use it for now. All our sabres are custom-forged, inscribed with runes to suppress demons, made to order for the Demon Execution Office. Our county doesn’t have the resources, so they’re made in Anxi Prefecture and sent here."

The sabre was much like those the others carried—standard issue, it seemed. The blade was jet black, forged from some special ore. At the end of the scabbard, three large characters were engraved: Lu Huaigu.

Lu Jiuzhang knew this weapon well. When Lu Huaigu came home, Lu Jiuzhang had often borrowed it to slaughter chickens—or, on one occasion, to chase Second Lai, a local rogue, for two streets when he tried to spy on the widow next door bathing.

As for how Lu Jiuzhang found out, that was another matter.

These standard sabres were far sharper and heavier than anything on the open market. That was why the Demon Execution Office only recruited robust men as laborers; someone weak would be exhausted just carrying the blade.

Lu Jiuzhang took the sabre. Strangely, it felt lighter than he remembered—perhaps because he’d now reached the ninth rank of the Confucian Path, which, however weak, still strengthened the body somewhat.

Everyone hurried toward the main hall.

By the time Lu Jiuzhang arrived, most were already assembled.

The hall was packed with dozens of men, all on duty today. They wore the standard Demon Execution Office robes: jet black, with a white-stitched character for "Execution" on the breast.

Standing before them was a man in a brown long robe, a long scar across his face, his expression cold and severe, as if everyone owed him money.

Judging by his uniform, he was a Demon Execution Guard—if not already at the ninth rank of Martial Arts, then close to it, Lu Jiuzhang surmised.

"That’s Lord Zhou Cheng, the Demon Execution Guard," Song Tao whispered, sidling closer. "He reached Martial Arts ninth rank years ago. He ought to have been promoted to Demon Execution Envoy by now, but rumor has it he offended Chief Inspector Chen, so he’s been stuck as a guard all these years. He’s not easy to get along with, has no friends here. Best not get too close, or you’ll find yourself in trouble."

With this explanation, Lu Jiuzhang understood. Such men were best avoided—too stern, and liable to make others uneasy.

At the front, Lord Zhou Cheng addressed them in a steely voice: "Several demons have been sighted twenty li west of the city. The Demon Execution Envoys have already gone to investigate. We set out now to support them."

"You must arrive within the time it takes for one incense stick to burn. Anyone late will forfeit half a month’s wages and receive twenty strokes of the cane!"