Chapter 6: Until Death Do Us Part

In a secluded, narrow alley, an unexpected confrontation unfolded.

Blocking Song Ruozhao’s path was a motley crew of scoundrels, led by the brothers Song Wan and Song Ku. Behind them, a throng of thugs crowded the space, bare-chested and fists ready, their bodies adorned with a variety of tattoos. Some bore images of lurking pythons or circling birds; others boasted famous verses like, "In life, be a hero among men; in death, be a legend among ghosts," or, "Kill one man every ten steps, leaving no trace for a thousand miles." The most defiant among them even had "Fear not the Governor of the Capital in life, nor King Yama in death" inked boldly across their arms.

It was an imposing display. The malicious aunt from earlier was the mother of their leader, and this was clearly a retaliatory strike. This aunt was the widow of Song Ruozhao’s father’s elder brother, Song Tingsheng. Once a Secretary of the Secretariat, he had been demoted for errors in historical record-keeping and died of depression, leaving behind two good-for-nothing sons for his widow to manage.

The elder, Song Wan, was twenty-three and made his living through petty theft, gambling, and debauchery, leaving his wife, Lady Pei, in utter despair. The younger, Song Ku, lacked the guidance of a father and the example of a virtuous brother; he was naturally dull-witted and had picked up a crude, foolish bravado from the local ruffians.

"Little sister, you’ve grown quite bold, haven't you?" Song Wan’s fawning grin held a mature, seasoned malice. "You won quite a bit of money earlier. You hurt my mother, so we’re here to settle the bill: medical fees, prescription costs, pain and suffering, the price of her being bedridden, the cost of her life hanging in the balance, and the emotional distress caused to us brothers. We’ll be collecting it all from you."

"That’s right, pay up! Or we’ll dismantle your whole family!" Song Ku declared with a simple-minded expression.

His brother nudged him in the ribs and whispered, "Listen, we’re here for compensation, not robbery. Try to act like you have some integrity!"

Song Ruozhao wore a mirthless smile. "If your mother’s funeral fund isn't enough, I’ll consider donating a gold-threaded nanmu coffin. I’ll burn a fortune for her so that the ghosts of black and white will be unable to let go, and King Yama himself will come to welcome her into the underworld."

Song Ku blinked, confused. "Brother, what kind of gibberish is she spouting?"

"She’s wishing Mother dead."

"Oh, she’s so simple-minded I can’t even understand her insults anymore. I suppose that’s a slight improvement."

"..." Song Wan rolled his eyes at his dim-witted brother.

Song Ruozhao beamed. "Dear little brother, I am incredibly gentle and civilized; I never insult people. I only insult *you*."

"You said you don't insult people, yet you're insulting me again?" Song Ku’s brain was a bowl of mush.

Embarrassed by his brother, Song Wan snapped, "She’s calling you a non-human."

Song Ku grew agitated. "You little half-wit, apologize to me!"

"My apologies come with a price tag."

"..."

Having heard from their mother that she had become sharp-tongued and cunning, the brothers had brought extra muscle, and it seemed the rumors were true. Despite being outnumbered, Song Ruozhao was unfazed; she had her own back-up, big and small alike.

She gestured, "Blue Enchantress, show them what you're made of!" Then, to the child, "Little Cutie, the stones you picked up are divine weapons. Use them to swap their heads!"

The enemies' expressions shifted back to the look one gives a mental patient.

*Ju Sifu, you idiot, are you going to step in? Don't you see your wife being bullied?*

Song Ruozhao looked back, stunned. Where was he? Behind her, there was no one. Instead, perched on the wall, a bird shaped like a chicken but with a cry like a phoenix, its red feathers brilliant and fierce, was watching the scene. It was that treacherous driver—"Diao Mao"!

*Bang.*

Diao Mao’s claw slipped, and a gray tile fell. The thugs took the sound as the signal to attack. "Charge!" they roared.

Song Ruozhao was truly grateful to that bird.

As the thugs surged forward like a dark tide, creating a gust of wind that would have terrified anyone else, they were all brawn and no brains. Song Ruozhao snatched a laundry pole from the corner and swung it like a dragon. In the blink of an eye, she had floored half of them.

Several burly men lunged at her, but Song Ruozhao caught the leader in the chest with a kick, sending him flying backward. As his cronies rushed to help, a powerful collision sent the man tumbling through the air. He watched in horror as his prized snake-skin belt—his pride and joy—was snatched by the enemy. His round face, large as a pancake, was filled with regret. "A tragedy! My family heirloom—"

He tried to reach for it, but the other end was already firmly in Song Ruozhao’s grip, becoming an extension of her own strength. The belt flicked, spun, and snapped in her hands. Wherever it landed—on chests or arms inked with pythons, tigers, or grand declarations—it left welts, sparing no one.

The battle ended, leaving a scene of utter ruin. The defeated wailed, their bodies broken, though their mouths remained stubborn. "Brothers, chop this lunatic into a thousand pieces! Don't stop until she's dead!"

The victor stood triumphant. "Diao Mao, show them your 'flood and wild beasts'!"

The bird flapped its wings, hoisted its tail, and let out a long-retained barrage, which, like a flood of wild beasts, rained down upon the mouths of the filthy ruffians. The wailing became even more pathetic.

The man with "Fear not the Governor... nor King Yama" tattooed on his arms, his face square and resolute, proved to be a man who knew when to yield. "My apologies, my apologies! May I ask, oh great heroine, who is your master?"

Though she had taken a few hits herself, her aura remained undiminished. She stood tall, with the presence of someone capable of holding off an army. "I belong to my own sect. If you are not satisfied, then come back to be chopped into a thousand pieces until you are dead."

"Satisfied, satisfied..." The voices grew weaker. Fearing for their lives, they vanished into the narrow alley like a swarm of bees.

The brothers Song Wan and Song Ku were the first to disappear. The owner of the snake-skin belt scurried back, trembling hands grabbing his heirloom before fleeing.

Song Ruozhao watched with utter contempt. A cold voice sounded behind her. "Let's go."

Song Ruozhao looked back at Ju Sifu. "Tell me, what musical instruments do you play?"

"I am ashamed to say I have never learned."

"How modest. You were playing the drums of retreat quite well just now."

"..."

She let out a cry of pain; her slender waist had been strained. Whether before or now, Ju Sifu seemed unwilling to help. She scolded, "Ju Sifu, if you don't help, you're not a man!"

The sheer impact of her words made him hesitate. He turned his head away and gentlemanly extended a hand, slim and elegant, with distinct knuckles. She took it; his touch was like carved jade—cool and slightly moist.

***

In the Song household, the howling was enough to lift the roof. The neighbors wondered if they were slaughtering a pig. The brothers were applying medicinal salve to each other’s wounds.

"You morons! You couldn't get your revenge and instead ended up covered in bruises, wearing new coats of black and purple. People fight and bicker all day, but even a snake sheds its skin only once a year. You two shed three layers in a single month!" Aunt Song scolded, lamenting their lack of ambition.

The eldest son was baffled. "Why did that half-wit suddenly get so smart?"

His mother echoed, "It’s more than that. It’s as if she’s been possessed by a ghost."

Song Ku suggested, "Brother, maybe we should invite her to join our gang. Wouldn't we have an extra fighter?"

"Are you asking for a beating?" The eldest raised his hand, but seeing the injury his brother had sustained protecting him earlier, his heart softened and he lowered his hand. "We cheated her out of so much money; now that she’s clear-headed, you’re still sticking your neck out to be hit—"

"Oh. But brother, even if we don't stick our necks out, her palm... it will come for us anyway..."

Song Ku ducked his head—she had truly come knocking.

Silently, Ju Sifu had appeared at the entrance. Though lean and thin, he possessed a proud, noble bearing. His pale blue robes fluttered in the wind; he was delicate, handsome, and ethereal, like an immortal wandering through a quiet valley.

At the first glance, Song Wan grabbed his weapon. At the second, Song Ku stared at the medicinal packet in Ju Sifu's hand, his train of thought taking a strange turn: "Brother, weapons won't help us now. This time, they’re using poison."

"..."

"I apologize for the offense in the alley earlier. Lady Song sent me to deliver some salve for your bruises. I hope you will be magnanimous, Aunt."

Ju Sifu placed the paper-wrapped herbs on the table, neither haughty nor humble. He looked up, his gaze clear and bright.

Aunt Song sneered, "Every medicine is three parts poison. Anything coming from your hands must be at least seven parts toxic."

Hearing his mother’s words, Song Wan gripped his weapon tighter.

Song Ku’s eyes lit up. "Aunt, I want this medicine. This is..."

His mother glared at him. "Have you no pride? If you drop your face, you don't pick it back up!"

He whispered, "This is from the Qianjin Hall in Xingde Square. The physician, Dr. Jia, is the great-great-grand-disciple of Sun Simiao. Even when the Emperor offered him a fortune to be a royal physician, he refused."

Aunt Song had once tried to visit Dr. Jia to treat her chronic leg pain, but because of her status as the mother of a gang leader, the doctor had refused to take her money. Remembering this, her anger flared. "They say a doctor should treat everyone equally! A physician without virtue picks his patients based on status! I don't want his medicine!"

She grumbled and cursed, but stood up tremblingly and snatched the medicine anyway.

As their figures receded, the two sons were tongue-tied. The elder: "Mother, didn't you say it was seven parts poison?" The younger: "Mother, what about your face? If you dropped it, shouldn't you pick it up?"

From the roof, watching through a crack, Song Ruozhao thought: *So much fluff and bluster, and this is all the backbone they have?*

Ju Sifu turned to leave. Sensing Song Wan’s strange gaze on his back, he turned around with grace, allowing him to stare all he wanted.

"I recognize who you are!" Song Wan’s laughter was mocking. "That half-wit really is brain-damaged, thinking she found a treasure, only to find out the other party is... nothing."

The unspeakable humiliation was etched into his very being. Even so, Ju Sifu remained composed. "If you recognize me, you know that I rely on the current Emperor, and my godfather is the General of the Right Guard. If you continue to mock me—"

"I will make you into someone who is not even as good as I am."