In the shadow of Red Candle Keep’s towering ramparts, the company of Chen Ping’an sought entry through the North Gate. Fate, however, had other designs. Grim-faced soldiers in burnished armor, blades gleaming in the waning light, demanded passage documents – *hu die guan wen*. Chen Ping’an, a youth of simple origins, stood dumbfounded. Such things were as foreign to him as the songs of the celestial choirs.

Ah Liang, ever the rogue, produced a crumpled parchment with a wink. A gold tael had loosened his tongue and his purse earlier, it seemed. The guards examined the document with narrowed eyes. Satisfied, they waved him through. Leaving his loyal donkey behind, Ah Liang swaggered into the keep, a rakish grin upon his face. He waved goodbye to the bewildered group, earning a string of curses from Li Huai, who vowed to butcher the white donkey in retribution. Ah Liang’s laughter echoed in the gate’s maw.

Zhu He, too, was at a loss. His ancestors, in their ancient wisdom, had neglected to mention such trivialities before his departure. Age aside, Zhu He knew little of the world beyond his ancestral lands, scarcely more than Chen Ping’an. And as for hardship, he was no match for the kiln worker’s hardened resolve. An idea sparked in his mind: coin spoke louder than any tongue! He attempted to slip a silver ingot into the palm of a guard, only to find a spear-point pressed against his chest. The soldier’s harsh reprimand kindled a flame in Zhu He’s usually placid heart. He was a martial artist of the Fifth Realm! Had he joined the legions, he might well command a thousand elite warriors! As Zhu He prepared to remonstrate, Zhu Lu, his daughter, gently tugged his arm. “Father,” she whispered, “the Great Li Dynasty’s laws are severe. Offenses are either trivial or capital. We, as common folk, cannot win against the Emperor’s soldiers.”

Zhu He scowled, muttering a cold curse as he yielded to the age-old wisdom: *Mín bù yǔ guān dòu* – The people do not contend with the officials.

Zhu Lu offered quiet comfort: “Father, one day the ancestors will secure you an official title, a shield against such indignities. With your skills, recognition will follow swiftly. You will not have to endure such slights.”

Zhu He stalked away, glancing back at the gate guard with scorn. “Truly,” he spat, “the Yama King is easier to face than these petty devils.”

All eyes turned to Chen Ping’an.

The young man pondered, then spoke: “If we cannot pass, we must circumvent Red Candle Keep. We will camp outside the walls tonight and hire locals to procure what we need. The true misfortune is the loss of the river docks. Our planned journey of over two hundred li south along the Embroidered River would have been far easier than marching, and saved much hardship.”

At that moment, a figure in a blue official’s robe emerged from the keep. He scrutinized the travelers, his gaze settling on Zhu He. Bowing slightly, he inquired, “I am Cheng Sheng, humble postmaster of Pillow Rest Inn in Red Candle Keep. Do I have the honor of addressing Zhu He, of Dragon Spring County?”

Zhu He remained silent, his eyes wary.

The postmaster chuckled. “Your clan dispatched a missive directly to our magistrate, outlining your journey and requesting hospitality. In addition, letters and family messages await you at Pillow Rest Inn. I have prepared chambers for you a *xun* ago. Though simple and clean, they are far from luxurious. I trust you will not complain to the magistrate, lest I lose my position on the morrow.”

The postmaster suddenly remembered something. “If Master Zhu doubts my words, I can summon a man from Fortune Street in Dragon Spring County. He served as a clerk in the official court, and personally delivered a message from the Great Li capital for a certain Master Lin Shouyi.”

Lin Shouyi stepped forward, a hint of noble arrogance in his voice. “I am Lin Shouyi. What is this man’s name, Postmaster Cheng?”

Zhu Lu, the maidservant, looked puzzled. This Lin Shouyi was unlike the quiet, brooding youth she remembered.

Li Bao Ping and Li Huai exchanged glances and nodded almost imperceptibly.

Postmaster Cheng’s reply was swift. “If memory serves, his name is Tang Shitou, forty-odd years of age. His pronunciation of the Great Li tongue is… lacking. Ah, yes! And he is fond of drink, though his conduct after imbibing is…”

Lin Shouyi nodded. “Did you wait at the North Gate all this time?”

The postmaster chuckled. “Alas, no! Pillow Rest Inn lies to the north, not far from here. But there are watchtowers on the surrounding hills. I have an understanding with the watch commander. He kept an eye on the mountain passes, and his signalmen informed me of your arrival.”

Lin Shouyi understood and turned to Chen Ping’an, who nodded his assent.

Zhu He smiled his thanks. “Postmaster Cheng, you have gone to great trouble.”

The postmaster waved his hand dismissively. “Trouble? Hardly! I am but a lowly servant, attending to the whims of my betters. Now, allow me to inform the gate guards. You will soon pass into the keep.”

Postmasters served the Great Li Dynasty, but held no official rank. Such scribes were neither scholars nor officials, caught in the chasm between the pure and impure.

Soon, the postmaster led them toward the gate. The guards, though allowing passage, scowled at them.

As they passed through the shadowy gate tunnel, the postmaster whispered to Zhu He: “Those are veterans from the border wars. Little skill, much stubbornness. Even our magistrate struggles to manage them. Please, good sir, pay them no mind.”

Zhu He, despite his lack of experience, understood the art of diplomacy. He remained silent.

They passed a shop radiating cold energy. Sturdy men entered and exited, and the occasional flash of white light illuminated the interior.

Li Huai stared in fascination, but Zhu He, his curiosity fleeting, quickly lost interest.

“A bladesmith’s shop,” the postmaster explained. “They sometimes sell other weapons, too.”

Lin Shouyi inquired, “Does the government not object? Are they not concerned about brawls in the streets?”

The postmaster smiled. “The government is… lenient, until trouble erupts. Then, they are quite strict. If the county constables are insufficient, the magistrate can call upon local martial sects to maintain order.”

Martial prowess was prized in the Great Li. Wandering swordsmen were commonplace, some mere thugs, others noble scions seeking adventure. Though the sale of weaponry was forbidden, the authorities often turned a blind eye to the creation of common swords. The attitude depended on the local governor. Learned scholars often banned such things, while seasoned warriors were more permissive. However, heavy crossbows and fine armor remained strictly prohibited, as they were the instruments of war.

Watchtowers, post houses, markets, taverns, and brothels – Red Candle Keep had it all. The streets teemed with people, a chaotic symphony of sounds and sights that far surpassed Chen Ping’an’s village. Stalls lined the streets, an overwhelming kaleidoscope of goods.

After a short walk, they reached Pillow Rest Inn. Stable hands led away the white donkey and horses. As promised, Postmaster Cheng provided accommodation, both first and second-class lodgings. Without presuming, he offered Zhu He the five lodgings to distribute as they wished.

Under Chen Ping’an’s guidance, Li Bao Ping and Zhu Lu shared a first-class room, Zhu He claimed another, and Chen Ping’an and the two lads settled in the lesser rooms. As for Ah Liang? If he returned, he could pick any room – though it would be just like him to ask for Zhu Lu’s and earn a withering look.

As twilight descended, the company gathered in Zhu He’s spacious chambers. Postmaster Cheng soon delivered a stack of letters, then excused himself, suggesting they explore Red Candle Keep’s famed night market.

Lin Shouyi received one letter. Li Bao Ping received three, while Chen Ping’an received a missive as well. Only Li Huai came up empty, turning to Zhu Lu for comfort: “Well, at least we’re in the same boat.”

Zhu Lu, paying him no mind, gazed out the window. The Pillow Rest Inn, despite its small size, had a courtyard with winding paths and a small lake filled with plump, red and gold carp.

Lin Shouyi’s letter consisted of a single, terse page. After a deep breath, he slipped the letter back into its envelope, his face grim. Besides the thirty-odd hurried words, the envelope contained a three-hundred tael note from one of the most reputable banks in the Great Li.

The young man strode back to his chamber, shut the door, placed the envelope on the table, his face pale.

Chen Ping’an found a quiet spot to sit. Li Bao Ping hovered, hesitant. He smiled. “I’ll ask you if I can’t read any of the characters.”

Reassured, Li Bao Ping returned to the table to open her letters, one from her father, one from her elder brother, and one from her younger brother.

Her father, Li Hong, wrote with warmth and affection, devoid of stern paternal judgement, mostly fussing over minor details, such as wearing enough clothes or not being afraid to spend money, and telling her to write home at every inn. Li Bao Ping sighed, looking at Zhu He. “When will my parents stop treating me like a child?”

Zhu He couldn’t help but grin, and took another sip of his tea.

The second letter, from her eldest brother, the family’s heir, was filled with Confucian lessons. Every carefully crafted stroke revealed his diligence and caution, reminding her to treat Zhu He and Zhu Lu with respect, to listen to Chen Ping’an, and to be industrious and avoid causing trouble. Only at the end did her formal, upright brother mention that he had become adept at caring for the crab she had caught in the stream as a child.

Li Bao Ping waved the letter at Zhu He, protesting, “My brother cares for me the least.”

Zhu He suppressed a smile, thinking to himself that she had no idea; the family had always made sure to take care of her every whim. That bookworm, who had once given the ancestors a headache with his lectures, had been livid when his sister had secretly replaced his tea with the family’s peach blossom wine, so much so that he had turned red in the face and was about to reprimand her. But upon seeing the girl standing outside the yard, hands on her hips, he had immediately forgave her.

And that year, he had buried a jar of peach blossom wine in his courtyard. When his sister asked about it, he told her that he would give it to her on her wedding day. The girl ran away from home in fright and didn’t return until the sun had set.

The Li family had panicked and sent all their servants to look for her. In the end, it was her elder brother who found her asleep on a bench by the creek, and carried her home on his back.

The young girl couldn’t help but smile, and said, “but I still love my brother the most.”

The last letter, a thick bundle, was from Li’s younger brother, and told of his travels in the Great Li capital in beautiful prose filled with interesting anecdotes and poems. More popular with the family than his older brother, this younger brother was both handsome and charismatic, loved to read military books, and would often have his servants organize mock battles.

Li Bao Ping flipped through the letter, and looked up at Zhu Lu, “My second brother mentioned you, and said that he once saw the signal fires you told him about. He said they looked like a flame dragon.”

Zhu Lu walked over and sat down, asking, “What else did he say?”

Li Bao Ping handed her the letter. All that it talked about was cultural customs and mountain spirits, so there wasn’t anything she didn’t want her to read.

Zhu Lu happily took the letter and said, “Can I read this in my room later?”

Li Bao Ping nodded. “Just don’t lose it.”

Zhu Lu walked away, smiling from ear to ear.

Postmaster Cheng knocked on the door, and brought in a basket of fresh fruit.

A man in a bamboo hat followed him in.

Li Huai threw a fit, and tried to push the heartless wretch out the door.

Ah Liang wriggled free and sat down at the table, grinning. “How about Zhu Lu? She’s glowing more than usual.”

Zhu He frowned.

Lin Shouyi returned, and sat down near Chen Ping’an. Ah Liang tossed him a silver gourd, and the youth pulled the cork and took a swig.

Ah Liang turned to the postmaster and asked, “Is there a Lotus Basin near the docks?”

The postmaster looked puzzled, and nodded. “Yes.”

Ah Liang tutted. “A den of iniquity, a den of iniquity!”

Red Candle Keep had a crescent-shaped bay filled with elegant boats that depended on the wealth of the owner. Some were decorated in purple bamboo, while others were decorated in green bamboo. Inside each boat were two or three beautiful women who had to be well-versed in a few of the fine arts, such as music, chess, and poetry. There was also a bedroom, which was not only for sleeping.

The women who worked on the boats were *jianhu* who, as legend had it, were once former subjects of the Shenshui kingdom. The Great Li emperor had decreed that they would forever be confined to the water.

The people of Red Candle Keep believed that the Qidun Mountain God, the god of loyalty, had tried to protect the people of the fallen kingdom during their escape, and that the Great Li emperor had demoted him from mountain god to land god, and ordered the people of the fallen kingdom to destroy his golden statue and drown it in the river.

The postmaster carefully explained the history of Red Candle Keep to the guests.

Although Red Candle Keep wasn’t a major trade hub, its docks saw heavy ship traffic, and resources from all over were traded there. It was situated near the intersection of three rivers: the Chongdan, the Embroidered, and the Jade. The two river gods who protected the other two rivers were war heroes who had fallen during the sea battle.

There were no temples or idols for the Chongdan river, until someone erected a shrine to a woman who had committed suicide to prove her innocence. However, the Great Li Dynasty quickly declared it a heretical shrine, and it was torn down.

When he heard the story of the Qidun Mountain God, Li Huai couldn’t help but say, “I didn’t know that so many people liked that bad guy.”

Lin Shouyi said, “Everyone has their own problems.”

Chen Ping’an put away the letter he had received from Ruan Xiu.

In it, she mentioned that the mountain he had bought was now an official Great Li mountain god and was helping to gather spiritual energy there, second only to the Sold Cloud Mountain and her father’s Lantern Mountain.