On the fourth night in Lin’an, Nanxi finally began his plan.
The boy had spent three days figuring out the flower thief’s methods and target victims, and today was the day he would play the role of a weak young man to bait the fish.
In that narrow inn room, facing the blurry bronze mirror on the table, he slowly combed his long hair.
The hair had been washed, scrubbed three times with soap nuts, and rinsed five times with clear water, finally cleaning off the dust and sweat from days of travel.
Now it hung damp over his shoulders, like a piece of water-soaked silver satin, gleaming softly in the dim yellow light of the oil lamp.
On the table lay a pink gauze dress.
He had bought it that afternoon at a ready-made clothing shop in the eastern market.
The shop proprietress was a shrewd woman; seeing a boy come alone to buy women’s clothing, her eyes were full of inquiry, but in the end, she didn’t ask much.
Nanxi chose carefully, avoiding those embroidered with elaborate flowers or adorned with beads, opting for the simplest style: cross-collar, wide sleeves, floor-length skirt, made of light and thin soft silk gauze, in a very pale pink, like the heart of an early spring peach blossom.
He changed into the dress.
His movements were a bit clumsy; his fingers fumbled when tying the sash, and it took a few tries to get it right.
The waist was a little loose, so he found a matching silk ribbon and wrapped it around his waist an extra time, making it fit.
Then he sat back in front of the mirror and began combing his hair.
No complicated updo; he just loosely gathered his long hair into a bun at the back of his head, secured it with a plain silver hairpin, and let the remaining strands hang over his shoulders and back, with a few slipping to his chest, resting against the pink fabric.
Finally, the face.
Nanxi looked at himself in the mirror—a fourteen-year-old face, lines not fully matured, somewhere between boy and youth, with an androgynous clarity and beauty.
His skin was very pale, the kind that hadn’t seen sunlight for a long time, an almost sickly white, and against the pink clothing, this whiteness seemed even more fragile and breakable.
His eyebrows were long and slender, eyes pitch black, lashes casting faint shadows on his eyelids, lips lacking color.
He thought for a moment, then rummaged in his bundle for a small box of rouge—it was the one Huang Muzhi had insisted on giving him back in the fishing village.
He dipped his fingertip in a bit and lightly smeared it on his lips, a faint red, like a plum blossom petal fallen on snow.
Done with that, he stood up, walked to the center of the room, and twirled once.
The skirt hem flared out, like a pink lotus slowly blooming.
The gauze was very light, barely felt against his body, making a faint rustling sound when he moved, like spring silkworms eating leaves.
He looked at himself in the mirror, and for a moment, he was dazed.
Is this really me?
The person in the mirror blinked back at him—undoubtedly still him.
The boy finally understood what people meant by “clothes make the man, saddle makes the horse.”
Nanxi took a deep breath, shook off the daze, and began checking his belongings.
The Shadow Sword could appear with a thought, no need to carry it.
He had sewn a hidden pocket in his sleeve, placing a few copper coins and blades inside for emergencies—they could serve as hidden weapons and come in handy.
The shoes were specially made; on the surface, they looked like ordinary embroidered shoes, but the soles were thickened with a layer of thin iron plates hidden inside, capable of instantly disabling someone if kicked in a vital spot.
Everything was ready.
He pushed open the window and checked the sky outside.
It was dusk, the sun just slanting westward, the horizon ablaze with sunset clouds, orange-red mixed with deep purple, dyeing the rooftops and tiles of Lin’an City in warm hues.
In the distance, noisy sounds were already starting—drums and music, the crack of firecrackers, the laughter of crowds, all blending together, surging in waves like the tide.
Today was the seventh day of the seventh month, the Qiqiao Festival, with Lin’an City’s most lively lantern festival of the year.
Nanxi closed the window, took one last look at himself in the mirror, then pushed open the door and went downstairs.
The stairs creaked underfoot.
The lobby was already lit with lamps, brighter than usual. The innkeeper was behind the counter doing accounts; hearing footsteps, she looked up, and then froze entirely.
Her mouth hung open, the abacus beads in her hand forgotten, her eyes staring straight at the figure descending the stairs.
Pink gauze dress, snow-white long hair, jade-white face, pitch-black eyes—in the flickering lamplight, the boy stepped down one stair at a time, the skirt hem swaying gently with his steps, like treading on clouds, untouched by a speck of dust.
“G-guest?”
The innkeeper finally found her voice.
Nanxi nodded to her, said nothing, and headed straight for the door.
The moment he pushed open the inn door, the noisy sounds hit him like a heat wave.
The street was already packed with people.
Men and women, old and young, all in new festival clothes, faces beaming with smiles.
Children carried various lanterns—rabbit lamps, lotus lamps, goldfish lamps—darting through the crowd, the lantern lights swaying like a flowing river of stars.
Vendors’ calls rose and fell along the roadside: sellers of sugar figurines, masks, trinkets, their faces flushed red in the lamplight.
The air was filled with complex scents: the sweet aroma of syrup, the crispy scent of fried pastries, the cloying fragrance of cosmetics, and the salty tang of crowd sweat, all mixed together, thick and inescapable.
Nanxi stepped into the crowd.
Almost instantly, the boy felt those gazes turning toward him.
First, a little girl carrying a flower lantern, who had been skipping along, suddenly stopped upon seeing him, tilting her head up, eyes wide and round, her lantern nearly dropping to the ground.
Then, two young women walking together; they had been chatting and laughing, one turned her head casually, her gaze sweeping over Nanxi, and her words cut off mid-sentence, mouth half-open, like someone had grabbed her throat.
The other followed her gaze and froze as well.
Then more people.
The old woman selling candied hawthorns, the peddler with a pushcart, the scholar fanning himself, the woman holding a child… As they passed the boy, they couldn’t help slowing their steps, turning their heads, gazes sticking to him, unable to pull away for a long time.
Those gazes held amazement, infatuation, curiosity, and unmasked desire, like countless hands reaching out, wanting to touch, to possess.
Nanxi couldn’t be bothered with those feelings; he just walked forward with a blank expression.
He deliberately slowed his pace, making himself appear more leisurely, more conspicuous, his gaze scanning every corner of the street, observing the shadows hidden beneath the bustle.
Nanxi knew that the person he was looking for must be somewhere, watching him with the same kind of gaze.
As he passed through Candy Workshop Street, the cloyingly sweet aroma was almost suffocating.
Several large candy workshops weren’t closing tonight; sturdy workers, wearing only sashes around their waists, bustled in the steaming workshops.
In the large pots, the syrup boiled with a gurgle, the golden-red liquid roiling in the firelight, like molten amber.
Nanxi paused at the street corner.
There were fewer people here, the lights dimmer.
He turned around, pretending to admire an old woman’s lantern craftsmanship by the roadside, but his peripheral vision scanned the street behind him.
Sure enough, a shadow flickered.
It was a woman, around thirty, dressed in ordinary blue cloth clothes, blending into the crowd without standing out, but her steps were light, movements steady, eyes fixed on Nanxi’s direction, like a hunting dog eyeing prey.
Nanxi remained impassive and continued walking forward.
He turned into a slightly narrower street.
Fewer lanterns here, the light dimmed, the crowd sparser.
On both sides were residences, with a few doors still open, leaking warm light and laughter.
After about a hundred steps, he turned into a small alley.
The alley was narrow, only wide enough for two to walk side by side, no lanterns, only faint light leaking in from the main street in the distance, barely illuminating the bluestone slabs underfoot.
High walls on both sides, topped with climbing vines swaying gently in the night breeze.
This was the planned route.
Secluded, quiet, perfect for making a move.
Nanxi slowed his steps, the skirt hem brushing the stone slabs with a rustling sound.
He pricked up his ears, listening to the movements behind him.
There were footsteps.
Very light, very cautious, but definitely following. One step, two steps, the distance closing.
Nanxi’s heartbeat quickened a bit.
He tightened his grip in his sleeve, fingertips touching those copper coins. Just a little closer, as long as it’s a little closer…
Just then, a soft shout came from the alley entrance.
“Stop!”
The voice was clear and carried authority.
Nanxi and the person behind him stopped at the same time.
In the light and shadow at the alley entrance stood a woman.
She wore a black constable’s uniform, tailored to fit, outlining her graceful figure perfectly: waist cinched tight, making her waist slim, chest full, legs long and straight.
The clothes were official issue, the fabric crisp, gleaming with a faint matte sheen in the dim light.
She stood there, one hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist, posture straight as a pine.
Most striking was her face.
Her skin was like warm jade, glowing with a lustrous sheen in the night.
Eyebrows long and arched, slanting into her temples, with a touch of heroism at the tips.
Her pupils were a rare red, like fine cinnabar or deep autumn maple leaves, startlingly bright in the darkness.
Nose bridge high, lips thin and sharply defined, now tightly pursed, showing a serious expression.
A head of black hair cascaded down her back, ends reaching her waist, swaying lightly with her movements.
A few stray strands on her forehead were lifted by the evening breeze, brushing her cheeks.
She looked at the two in the alley, her gaze first landing on Nanxi, lingering for a moment, a flash of amazement in her eyes, but quickly shifting away, locking onto the woman behind Nanxi.
“Official business, unrelated parties step back.”
Her voice was steady, each word enunciated clearly.
“Young master up ahead, please come this way.”
Nanxi didn’t move.
But the woman behind him did; she turned and ran, movements extremely fast, kicking off the wall, and with a few leaps, disappeared into the darkness.
The female constable’s eyes sharpened, her body about to move, but she stopped.
She glanced at Nanxi still standing there, hesitated for a moment, and ultimately didn’t pursue, instead striding quickly to Nanxi’s side.
“Are you alright?”
She asked, her voice a bit softer than before, but still carrying an official tone.
Nanxi shook his head, his expression a bit displeased because his plan had been disrupted, but he had no objection to her act of justice.
Up close, this female constable was even more beautiful—not a delicate beauty, but a sharp, edged beauty.
Her red eyes were like two flames in the darkness, and there was a faint scent of sweat on her.
“It’s dangerous to wander alone in a place like this so late.” The female constable frowned.
“The city hasn’t been peaceful lately; haven’t you heard?”
Nanxi lowered his eyes and said nothing.
Seeing him like this, the female constable’s tone softened further.
“Where do you live? I’ll escort you back.”
“No need, I can go back myself.”
“Are you sure?”
The female constable sized him up, her gaze sweeping over the pink gauze dress and his pale face.
“You don’t look like a local.”
Nanxi lifted his eyes and looked at her once.
Just that one look made the female constable feel her heartbeat skip a beat.
The boy’s eyes were too pure, pure like spring water in a mountain stream, able to reflect the deepest secrets in one’s heart.
But beneath that purity hid something she couldn’t fathom, dark like a well—drop a stone in, and hear no echo.
“Thank you for your concern; I really can go back myself.”
With that, he turned to leave.
“Wait.”
The female constable called out to him.
“You… what’s your name?”
Nanxi paused his steps but didn’t look back.
“A chance encounter like ships passing in the night—why ask for a name?”
His voice drifted over, light as willow catkins in the wind, impossible to grasp.
The female constable stood there, watching that pink figure disappear into the darkness at the end of the alley, unmoving for a long time.