Chapter 9: The Imposing Mirror of Justice

The advisor approached, leaned over to look at the bandit, and saw the man’s eyes wide open, staring fixedly at something behind him. Turning back, he smiled at Yang Xuan and asked, “How did you know he would fall here?”

Yang Xuan replied, “I watched him. As he vaulted through the air, he kept descending—clearly, he’d been hurt by the strike from Second Master.”

The advisor asked gently, “Yes, anyone could see he was injured, but how did you calculate exactly where he would land?”

“By watching,” Yang Xuan replied simply.

“By watching?” the advisor pressed.

Yang Xuan nodded.

It was just that—watching. Nothing profound. He answered honestly, “I took a look and knew he’d fall there.”

The advisor was taken aback for a moment, then laughed. “Young man, would you like to join the Wang family?”

Jin Qiyan glanced at Yang Xuan, recognizing this as a wonderful opportunity. Yesterday, he and Old Huang had invited Yang Xuan; today, it was the advisor. This advisor worked closely with Wang Douxiang, trusted deeply by him. An invitation from him was as good as an official offer from the Wang family.

If Yang Xuan agreed, he wouldn’t begin as a mere guard upon entering the family; he’d likely be placed somewhere much more favorable.

Old Huang was filled with envy, but also delighted for Yang Xuan. He shot him a stern look, signaling not to be stubborn.

From behind, Wang Xian’er sighed, “Now I won’t be able to have him feed my horse anymore.”

Wang Douxiang smiled faintly, noticing Yang Xuan looking up. The young man’s eyes were bright, carrying a quality that Wang Douxiang himself had once possessed in his youth, and he couldn’t help but frown slightly.

Since Yang Xuan had already decided to walk the path of the tiger, he would not hesitate now. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate kindness, but… still, thank you.”

The advisor’s smile froze, then he quickly masked his embarrassment with laughter and asked, “Chang’an is a difficult place to settle, young man—do you know what you’ve just turned down?”

A bright future, wealth and honor!

Yang Xuan saw Jin Qiyan sigh and shake his head, while Old Huang looked furious, dragging a finger across his throat in exasperation. Yang Xuan nodded. “I know.”

Yet you still refused.

The advisor returned, noting the trace of disappointment on Wang Xian’er’s face, which soon turned to pride.

“Second Master, the boy still refused. I wonder why.”

Wang Douxiang was surprised as well, but he’d seen too much in his life for such a small incident to move him. “Youthful pride… But Chang’an is unsettled. How many bright and ambitious young men have had their spirits worn down within its walls? I hope he remains so stubborn, but I have seen far too many go from spirited to weary in this city.”

The advisor glanced at Wang Xian’er. “No matter how much spirit one has, it won’t fill an empty purse or smooth every obstacle. What can a hunter do in Chang’an? Hunt the nobility as if they were wild beasts? He also said he wanted to study, but gaining an education in Chang’an is as hard as climbing to the heavens.”

Wang Douxiang, hands clasped behind his back, watched Yang Xuan being ‘chased’ by Old Huang, and mused, “I remember sneaking out with my elder brother to wander Chang’an, feeling utterly free. Now I’m entangled in a thousand affairs, with no trace of that innocence left.”

The advisor caught the undertone, realizing Second Master was still attached to Chang’an, wary that someone might move against the Wang family there.

Wang Douxiang, now sleepless, suddenly beckoned Yang Xuan over.

Wang Xian’er, annoyed, was surrounded by maidservants as she headed back to rest. As she left, she asked, “Why won’t you join the Wang family?”

Yang Xuan hadn’t expected her to speak to him. Stunned, he answered, “I’m used to the mountains.”

Once she’d gone, Wang Douxiang scrutinized Yang Xuan. “Earlier, I saw you move with the speed of the wind. What technique have you studied?”

Ordinarily, such a question might seem too forward, but Wang Douxiang’s status was so high that no one would suspect him of coveting a country boy’s skills. There was even a sense of warmth in his tone.

Yang Xuan didn’t know the name of his technique, but he understood he had to be cautious—how could a rural youth come by such skills otherwise? Many thoughts raced through his mind. He kept his expression calm, feeling a faint heat along his back, a prickly kind of tension. “I learned from an old hunter whom I once saved in the mountains.”

Acts of gratitude abound, of course, but so do tales of betrayal.

Wang Douxiang nodded slightly. “You must have some aptitude. You wish to study?”

The conversation’s turn left Yang Xuan, who was already uneasy from his lie, somewhat dazed. “Yes.”

Wang Douxiang smiled. “Why?”

The advisor smiled too, suspecting this was a trick question. Ask a hundred people and you’ll get a hundred different answers, but in their hearts, all want the same: to succeed, to become an official, to rise above others.

Yet he saw Yang Xuan genuinely considering the question. Was there really anything to ponder?

Yang Xuan thought deeply. He recalled his fifteen years of life, and especially the narrow-mindedness of the Yang family. He was different. He’d once been scolded by the Wang family—called unlike his three brothers, and not just in appearance, but in his conduct and bearing. It had puzzled him for a long time, until he realized it was the voice of the girl in the scroll that had taught him so much.

He answered sincerely, “Without study, one is blind to the world.”

Wang Douxiang and the advisor were both taken aback.

With their experience, they could see his honesty. Yet his answer was unlike the rest of the world’s. It was as if, while everyone else was obsessed with wealth, a boy suddenly declared he didn’t care for money—so unexpected it was almost shocking.

The advisor suddenly laughed—a genuine, heartfelt laugh. “When I studied as a young man, I dreamt of fame, of becoming a magistrate, of wealth and marriage… so did all my peers. But you, boy, wish only not to be a fool. Interesting, very interesting. I hope that when I see you again in years to come, you still hold to this belief.”

…

A seemingly endless expanse of city wall came into view—so tall that one had to crane one’s neck to see the top. Soldiers stood above, weapons in hand, imposing and proud. Even the faces of passersby shone with an emotion called ‘pride.’

When Yang Xuan finally saw Chang’an, his mouth fell open and did not close.

The grand majesty of Chang’an left the country boy utterly dumbfounded; the self-assured, proud townsfolk made him feel like a bumpkin.

Over a hundred riders galloped out of the city, yet the guards asked no questions nor attempted to stop them. As they approached, they saluted. “Second Master.”

They were the Wang family’s men.

Wang Douxiang nodded. “How is everything at home?”

The leader replied, “All is well.”

Wang Douxiang relaxed, then turned to Yang Xuan. “Find a place to stay. In time, I’ll see that you’re admitted to the Imperial Academy.”

It was a reward from the Wang family, and Yang Xuan accepted it with a clear conscience.

The carriage curtain was flung open, and a maid poked her head out, scolding, “My lady says there are many sly folk in Chang’an. You’re so naive—be careful not to be tricked! If someone does trick you, simply give my lady’s name, and she’ll avenge you!”

Avenge him? What nonsense!

Wang Douxiang’s cheek twitched; the advisor was lost in admiration for the city’s mighty walls.

The city gate was just as solid. A man in his twenties squatted nearby, surprise on his face, and whispered to his companion, “Wang Douxiang returns from inspecting the mines—why has he brought back a boy?”

His companion replied softly, “No idea. Word is the Wang family’s convoy was attacked, and since then, the area’s been crawling with sentries. None of our people could get close.”

The young man yawned and rubbed his hungry belly. “Wang Douxiang speaks kindly to the boy, and even Wang Xian’er, that cherished daughter, asked her maid to pass a message. This boy must be something special. I’ll go and report.”

He meandered through the city, eventually reaching the palace outskirts. After verifying his identity, he entered the imperial city, turning right and heading deeper into a remote corner, where a cluster of shabby buildings shimmered under the late spring sun.

Two burly men stood guard by the entrance. When they saw him, they grinned. “Zhao Sanfu, back so soon? Is stakeout work too tough? Want to swap with us?”

Zhao Sanfu raised his brow, hooked his finger. “Shall we try?”

The guards laughed, not daring to continue.

Inside the gate, a large copper mirror hung at the entrance, with a plaque above bearing four bold characters: “Justice Above All.”

This was the Mirror Pavilion—the most mysterious institution in all of Tang.

Zhao Sanfu straightened his attire before the mirror, admiring his reflection. “Such a handsome, dashing young man, with limitless prospects—who knows which lucky girl will win me?”

He made his way inside and stopped outside the main hall, bowing his head. “Zhao Sanfu requests an audience with Chief Wang.”

Two rows of burly men stood outside, all dressed in black, exuding a quiet menace.

There were several types of black robes—those for the emperor, those for the nobility. Either way, they denoted status. But these men wore a modified version, a mark of their own distinction.

After a moment, someone appeared. “Come in.”

Zhao Sanfu bowed slightly, following the man inside.

The hall was spacious, with two rows of men standing below the dais. At the head of the room knelt a pale, beardless man, his left eye covered by a patch, the exposed right eye glinting coldly at Zhao Sanfu.

This was the head of the Mirror Pavilion: Chief Inspector Wang Shou, the one-eyed dragon whom Chang’an’s aristocracy both feared and cursed.

“Chief,” Zhao Sanfu said, knowing full well the man’s ruthlessness and not daring to waste words. “I was ordered to watch the Wang family. Today, Wang Douxiang returned to Chang’an, and I learned he was ambushed en route…”

Wang Shou tapped the table before him, his back straight, his voice piercingly sharp. “Wang Douxiang went to inspect the family mines. By our calculations, he should have returned in ten days. He traveled with many guards—the ambush wouldn’t have forced an early return. There’s only one possibility: the Wang family in Chang’an sent him word.”

Zhao Sanfu bowed his head, recalling recent rumors sweeping the city.

“To cut thirty percent of the hereditary privileges—that’s carving meat from the most powerful. Those men are already obscenely rich, yet they would scrape up the last copper in the world if they could. Their greed goes beyond even the word ‘gluttony.’ It’s contemptible.”

Zhao Sanfu agreed, but knew such talk was only safe within the Mirror Pavilion. Otherwise, the Emperor himself could end Chief Wang’s career—or his life.

Wang Shou waved his hand; the man serving tea withdrew quietly.

He glanced at Zhao Sanfu. “The Wang family knows what’s coming; Wang Douxiang returned early to prepare. Anything else?”

Zhao Sanfu had rehearsed his words. “Wang Douxiang brought back a boy this time.”

Wang Shou’s gaze turned cold. “The Pavilion pays you to bring back trivialities?”

A sign of impending anger; sweat beaded on Zhao Sanfu’s forehead. “Chief, Wang Douxiang treated the boy kindly, and even Wang Xian’er seemed concerned for him. I thought it suspicious…”

Wang Shou rose, flicked his sleeve; all present bowed their heads at once.

He turned and left by the side door, his sharp voice floating back.

“Then you keep an eye on him.”

…

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