Chang 'an was a city that had no regrets, except for its summer.
In June, the sun was getting brighter and brighter, and the temperature was getting higher and higher. The hot summer air enveloped the streets and alleys. Occasionally, the wind would blow with a disgusting warm breath, wilting the originally green and plump leaves, staining the grapes on the racks purple, bringing out the ice cubes from the houses of the nobles, and pushing open the doors and windows of the commoners.
All the doors and windows of the shops along the street of Lin 47th Street were open.
Compared to the risk of theft, the risk of dying from heat stroke was obviously more terrifying. The poor manservants and waiters sat on the stone steps and looked around weakly, guarding against the thieves who had also stayed at home to enjoy the cool air. The shopkeepers and the masters moved bamboo chairs and water buckets to an alley behind the street.
The alleys were quiet and narrow, shaded by green pagoda trees. There was not much sunlight during the day, and the night wind was much faster because of the narrow alleys, which made people feel relatively cool when it blew on them.
All kinds of bamboo beds and small square tables had completely blocked the narrow alleys behind the street. The neighbors were lying on the bamboo beds and chatting lazily, with fruits soaked in well water on the small square tables beside them.
There were also those who were used to finding joy in bitterness. They dug into their bowls of oily noodles, the sweat from the chili mixed with the sweat from the stuffy heat. They used the trick of fighting poison with poison to deceive themselves that the night was not that unbearably hot.
From time to time, there would be a clear smack in the alleys. It sounded like an adult was educating a naughty child, but in fact, it was just people patting their greasy and sweaty backs with towels soaked in well water.
"You can't! Do you still want to find someone to warm your feet on such a hot day? "
The couple in the fake antique shop argued day after day about taking a concubine. The people on Lin 47th Street had long been tired of hearing it, and even began to wonder if it was a kind of flirtation.
There was also a back door at the back street of the Old Brush Pen Shop. It had not been used for a few days, but now it was finally put to use. Ning Que lay on the bamboo chair and took the wet towel from Sangsang. He sighed and wiped his naked upper body. Listening to the quarrel coming from the bamboo bed next door, he thought that the life of the common people was not as interesting as what scholars said.
Since it was boring, he decided to leave. He put the wet towel on his shoulder, got up and said goodbye to his neighbors before returning to his own courtyard. Sangsang followed him with a bucket in one hand and a bamboo recliner in the other.
Today, the little handmaiden was wearing a thin blue floral blouse. Her arms and legs were bare, and her tanned face was flushed. Her body was too cold to sweat, but it did not mean that she could not feel the heat inside and outside the eaves. On the contrary, it made her feel more annoyed. She looked at Ning Que by the well and asked, "Young master, can I take off my outer blouse?"
Ning Que fetched a bucket of fresh cold water from the well and was about to pour it on his head to get rid of the annoying heat. Suddenly, he heard her words and could not help but feel more annoyed. He turned his back and lectured her, "Although you are young, you are still a girl. How can you take off your clothes in front of a man? You are not three or four years old anymore. I can wipe your body and take a bath for you. You are about to become a big girl. Wake up, will you?"
Sangsang stared at him angrily and asked, "Young master, you didn't answer me just now. Is revenge really so interesting? Killing one every few days? Don't you find it boring? "
"This is an interesting and irrelevant thing," Ning Que replied.
"We are eating leftovers every day. We have to go to the toilet every day. Isn't it boring and repetitive? But you still have to do it. Because if you don't eat, you will starve to death. If you don't poop, you will suffocate to death. Killing for revenge is boring, but in order to live in peace, no matter how boring it is, you still have to kill. "
After saying this, he raised his hands and flipped them over. The entire bucket of slightly cold well water splashed onto his body, and then poured onto the stone floor of the small courtyard. His spirit was immediately refreshed, and then he found that his lower body was slightly cold. He looked down in surprise, and saw that the cotton shorts he was wearing had actually been washed down by a section.
Sangsang looked at his exposed buttocks and the tight trousers around his buttocks. She giggled, which was rare for her. She covered her mouth with her small hands, but she couldn't hide her joy.
Ning Que lifted the shorts and turned back to scold her angrily, "What are you looking at? Killing is more interesting than this. "
Sangsang put down her little hand and looked at him seriously. She replied, "I will make a bowl of fat intestine noodles later."
…
…
In summer, it was the darkest and coolest time in Chang 'an City before dawn. The residents who were forced to lie on the street by the hot night returned to their beds. They took advantage of this short period of coolness to have the most wonderful and deep sleep, trying to make up for all the time lost in the summer.
No one slept in the Old Brush Pen Shop.
Sangsang made a bowl of fragrant noodle soup with a lot of chives, six or seven pieces of fat intestine and two pieces of large intestine.
Ning Que ate the noodle soup like a whirlwind. He wiped his mouth and put on a shabby ordinary outer shirt and a brand new ordinary bamboo hat. He covered most of his face with a mask and wrapped the podao and the big black umbrella with a coarse cloth. Then, he pushed open the back door of the small courtyard and walked into the night after saying goodbye to the little handmaiden.
Walking through the quiet streets and alleys of the Eastern City, the cool night wind passed through them. Whether it was the tired residents or the vigilant dogs, they were all sleeping sweetly. It seemed that the whole city had not woken up yet. Only the sound of the water delivery cart rolling over the bluestone could be heard from time to time, and then it gradually faded away.
The faint light of the lantern illuminated the road ahead of the water delivery cart, which was swaying restlessly.
When the water delivery cart passed by the side entrance of a market place in the Southern City, Ning Que, who had been silently squatting in the gap of the big bucket, jumped down. His feet landed on the ground silently and his body quickly flashed into the darkness of the side alley of the market place. Then, he took out the hand-drawn map by Sangsang and looked at it for the last time in the extremely dim light.
Just as Sangsang was puzzled, planning to kill a person every once in a while was totally incompatible with the quiet and bitter life of studying in the Academy and the noisy and annoying life in the marketplace on Lin 47th Street. Moreover, this kind of boring repetition was really boring. But for Ning Que, who had just returned to Chang 'an from the City of Wei, eating a bowl of noodles with fat intestines or noodles with fried eggs from time to time and then killing people for revenge was like writing a few pieces of calligraphy and meditating for a few hours. It had become a very important part of his life and even a kind of habit.
Every time he killed a target for revenge, every time he erased a name on the oilpaper list, he would feel that the burden on his shoulders was reduced, his body was relaxed, and the sticky blood on his hands was a little lighter. Everyone instinctively yearned for a relaxed and happy life, so his instinct urged him to continue doing it.
Sangsang had prepared the knife, the cloth mask, the coat, the bamboo hat, the map and the target's living habits and schedule. A little black-faced handmaiden walking through the streets of Chang 'an would not attract anyone's attention. Ning Que was not worried about her safety, but trusted her ability.
Therefore, every time he was about to unsheathe his knife, he never thought that he would not be able to cut off a head, including today. When he quietly entered the market place under the cover of the night and walked toward the small lake behind the teahouse, he had already begun to use that person's head as a sacrifice to the General's Mansion and many people in the village.
Today, he was going to erase the third name on the oilpaper list.
The owner of that head was Yan Suqing, 41 years old, a former document appraiser of the Military Ministry.
He was good at tea ceremony and seal appraisal. After being driven out of the Military Ministry by the imperial court with an excuse, he became a tea master specially hired by a famous tea merchant in Chang 'an. According to Zhuo Er's investigation, the irrefutable evidence that Xuanwei General was accused of treason and colluding with the enemy was personally appraised by this person, and it was even possible that the three letters were forged by this person.
This person also had a lot of unclear connections with the massacre of the village in the Yan territory. When Xiahou's army pointed at the Yan Kingdom, but failed to arrive at the edge of Min Mountain, Yan Suqing was in Xiahou's army. But it was puzzling why, as a document appraiser of the Military Ministry, he would appear on the frontline battlefield full of killing and blood.
Yan Suqing was now living in a lakeside house purchased for him by a tea merchant. Ning Que walked along the lakeside quietly. Looking at the row of secluded houses on the lakeside getting closer and closer, as well as the bamboo walls and thatched cottages that seemed to be alienated but with a hint of antiquity, Ning Que slowly raised his eyebrows outside the mask and suddenly felt something wrong.
Because this lakeside house was too quiet and secluded.
It was not easy to live in Chang 'an. It could be said that every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. In the bustling city, the word "quiet and secluded" represented nobility, and it was very expensive. Ning Que knew that Yan Suqing was deeply trusted and relied on by the tea merchant, but he believed that no matter how extravagant and generous a tycoon was, it was impossible for him to give such a lakeside house to his subordinate tea master.
The morning light still hadn't arrived, and the view of the lakeside was still dark. Only the ripples of the water reflected the lights of some unknown houses, giving a faint light. Ning Que walked to the front of the lakeside house, looking at the huge stone chair under the stone steps in the courtyard and the emaciated middle-aged man sitting in the chair through the alienated bamboo wall. After a slight pause, he pushed the door and entered.
A small oil lamp was lit, and the emaciated middle-aged man sat on the stone chair, holding a coarse big mud-made teacup in his left hand, and gently knocking the corner of the ebony tea table with his right hand. He calmly looked at the lad who pushed the door and entered, and a faint smile suddenly appeared on his thin cheeks, and then he said softly,
"The so-called tea ceremony is actually to strengthen a certain sense of ceremony with a complicated process, so as to produce a sense of solemnity."
"Many people think that when I drink tea at home, I must burn incense, take a bath, worship Haotian for a long time, and then wash the cup in the sea and play with it silently for a while before I can send the tea to my mouth. In fact, what I like most in my life is holding a big teacup and drinking tea. Maybe it's a habit developed in the army, and I prefer to be straightforward. "
"On such a hot summer night, lad, you are restlessly sleeping in the house, but strolling by the lake. Presumably … you are here to kill me."
…
…
(Abstain from anger and anger. If you can't, close yourself and write quietly. Today I write very slowly and painstakingly, but this chapter is published after revision. There are still two more chapters, and I will continue to write slowly and seriously. Finally, I say, well, I won't say it, see you later.) (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to vote for recommendation or monthly vote. Your support is my biggest motivation.)
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