Chapter Four: Here I Come

From the crowd blocking the breach stepped an official, his face tanned and weathered like an old farmer. He stopped the spear of the military officer. The man astride his warhorse, looking every bit the god of battle, seemed unable to stand upright before him. The official stood before the horse and rebuked the officer: “Foolish!”

The officer, cradling Tie Xinyuan, leapt down from his steed, bowed low, and said, “This peasant woman has indeed committed a capital crime under the law!”

The dark-faced official glanced at the officer, then pointed coldly at the distant, crowded onlookers. “If she’s broken the law, she must answer for it. But this peasant woman is not a soldier of your army. Even if she held a sharp blade, there must be another reason for it. You are a military man—what right have you to judge the common people?”

The officer handed Tie Xinyuan back to Wang Rouhua, whose hope had just begun to flicker, and scratched his head. “Whether it’s the Inspectorate or the Kaifeng Prefecture passing judgment, the outcome is death all the same. Uncle, I doubt you would show mercy.”

The black-faced official snorted, “Once state law is established, it must be enforced. True, there is sentiment beyond the law, but imperial authority is inviolable—this is ironclad. Huaiyu, you are still young and impetuous. Never again act so rashly. Your father now serves as the Defender of Fengzhou, with many watching, hoping for his downfall. You have been appointed to the Emperor’s Dragon Guard; you must give no one cause to grasp at your failings, lest you bring ruin upon your father. This woman has indeed committed a capital crime, but she and her child are pitiable. To kill in the street would greatly harm your reputation in days to come!”

The young general bowed and said, “Thank you for your guidance, Uncle Bao. I will remember your words.”

Wang Rouhua was still bewildered, unsure what had shifted, but Tie Xinyuan understood clearly. Seeing the banners of “Song” in the soldiers’ hands and hearing the way these two addressed each other, Tie Xinyuan—well-versed in history—could not fail to guess their identities. To think that these two renowned men from history, one so cruel, the other so rigid, would oversee his fate; all he and his mother had done was seek shelter from the rain in a corner, yet even their lives hung in the balance.

Tie Xinyuan glared resentfully at the two men conversing beneath the umbrella. Bao Zheng seemed to sense something, turning to glance at Wang Rouhua, who stood shivering in the rain. He took a step closer and said to her, “Old man will ensure your son’s safety. You need not worry.”

Wang Rouhua’s tears fell onto Tie Xinyuan’s face, mingling with the downpour. Tie Xinyuan stared coldly at Bao Zheng, unblinking.

Bao Zheng hesitated, then shook his head, casting out the odd thought. “Speak not of monsters and spirits,” he told himself. “No need to overthink—a child not yet a year old…”

With an iron chain fastened around her neck, Wang Rouhua, clutching Tie Xinyuan, was dragged from the wall’s shelter by constables. Tie Xinyuan suddenly noticed a large carriage not far away. Two burly men stood on the yoke, unflinching despite the rain, while the soldiers flanking them were as silent and motionless as statues. Dusk had not yet fully fallen, but a dozen great lanterns already illuminated the area as if it were day.

Suddenly, Tie Xinyuan, who had been quiet, burst into wails, his cries shrill and piercing. Wang Rouhua, realizing her child would soon be motherless, knelt in the mud and wailed as well, refusing to rise no matter how the constables tugged her chain, only clutching her son and weeping.

The swaddling cloth was soaked through, and the little fox that had hidden within, frightened by the commotion, now burrowed deeper. Its mischievous tail brushed against Tie Xinyuan’s skin, making his cries even more shrill.

Their cries finally roused someone within the carriage. A man in a raincloak, holding a horsetail whisk, stepped out, whispered a few words to Bao Zheng, glanced at the weeping mother and child, then returned inside.

After a while, a frail-looking young man emerged from the carriage, sheltered beneath a vast umbrella. He looked upon Wang Rouhua and her child, then gazed up at the dark sky and said to Bao Zheng, “Disasters have come again and again—Heaven is warning me. The suffering of the people is all my responsibility.”

Bao Zheng bowed deeply, “Your Majesty has already issued three edicts of self-blame for the disasters. Heaven will surely be moved by your sincerity, and good fortune will return.”

The young man coughed softly, “I have issued three such edicts in recent years. To Heaven, I must already be a sinner. Enough. If only you would cause me fewer misdeeds, I would be content. Do you truly think this mother and child pose a threat to the palace, or could assassinate me?”

Bao Zheng hesitated, “No, but the dignity of the law must still be upheld.”

“Will killing this peasant woman truly uphold the law’s dignity?” the Emperor replied. “I do not believe so. The royal house has lost three princes in recent years. I have had no heirs, perhaps because the law is too harsh.”

Bao Zheng, heedless of the pouring rain, removed his hat and let the drops stream down his face, raising his voice: “Benevolence and filial piety are the pillars of our Song dynasty; the law is its foundation. How can we abolish it on account of the loss of princes? Your Majesty, reconsider!”

The Emperor shook his head and pointed outside the city, “Enough. Today I have seen enough corpses of my people, and I wish not to create another. Pass my order: let her and her child take shelter beneath the eaves of the imperial house; Bao, say no more!”

With that, the young Emperor glanced back at Tie Xinyuan, who sat with ears pricked, listening intently. Seeing their plight, he thought of his three lost sons and was moved to compassion. He signaled to his attendant and returned to the carriage.

Bao Zheng stepped forward, ordered the chain removed from Wang Rouhua’s neck, and smiled, “His Majesty is merciful; your deliverance is Heaven’s blessing. It is not fitting to dwell at the foot of the imperial wall. Let me find you a better home?”

Having heard every word of the exchange, and now knowing her life was spared, Wang Rouhua’s peasant fierceness returned. Hugging her son tightly, she declared, “I am a subject of His Majesty, and will accept only his arrangement. I’d rather build a hut at the palace wall than live in any mansion given by you!”

With that, she clutched her son and retreated to the corner. The eunuch who had stood nearby chuckled, “Well said! A hut from His Majesty is more honorable than a mansion from any other. Here are five strings of cash—a reward from the Emperor for you and your child.”

With this, the eunuch ignored the embarrassed Bao Zheng, draped his own raincloak over Wang Rouhua’s shoulders, and said, “This is from me, for what you just said.”

Wang Rouhua, overjoyed, gathered her son in one arm and the heavy coins in the other, but before she could thank the eunuch, he had already disappeared.

Bao Zheng sighed and said, “Take care of yourself.”

Wang Rouhua grunted, then dragged her rewards back to the wall’s shelter.

Bao Zheng surveyed the area, his pupils narrowing. He ordered the constables, “Aside from that mother and child, any outsider who comes within ten paces of the palace wall—execute them!”

The constables roared in reply, took up their posts ten paces away, and shouted, “Listen up, you donkeys! The prefect’s orders: anyone who dares approach within ten paces of the palace wall will be executed!”

Wang Rouhua returned to the corner, set her son back in the washbasin, shook the rain from her hair, and said smugly, “Son, we’ve struck it rich—now we have eight strings of cash. Should we build a little house here to live in? The rest I’ll save for you, so one day you can bring me home a bride as lovely as a flower!”

Tie Xinyuan opened his toothless mouth and cackled along. The little fox, seeing the people gone, popped out of the swaddling and whimpered at Wang Rouhua.

Having survived disaster, Wang Rouhua’s spirits soared. She stroked the fox’s head and laughed, “You are blessed as well.”

Noticing her son’s swaddling was soaked, she quickly fetched the spare, which, though damp, was drier than the first. With a place to settle, Wang Rouhua seemed filled with boundless energy. In no time at all, she rigged a makeshift tent from oilcloth, spread all the dry clothes in the washbasin, and climbed in with her son and the fox, ready for sleep.

The rain still fell, though much lighter now. Occasionally, drops would strike the oilcloth with a rhythmic patter.

Sitting in the washbasin, Wang Rouhua prayed, “Seventh Brother, this is all thanks to your spirit’s blessing. Please watch over our child—may he grow strong as a bull, carry on your line, and I will work hard to raise him well.”

Tie Xinyuan knew this was the truest side of Wang Rouhua. Whether emperor, prefect, or general, they were all too distant. She would rather see the day’s events as her late husband’s intervention than believe in the charity of those high officials.

Such a belief was simple and true. Tie Xinyuan never thought that resting a moment by the imperial wall was a crime for him and his mother. Even if it were, it would be unjust.

A real man repays kindness and vengeance alike. In his past life, his greatest regret was leaving debts of gratitude unpaid before being sent here. In this life, he would not let that happen again.

Yang Huaiyu, Bao Zheng? The Emperor, the eunuch? What an amusing situation.

Wang Rouhua stubbornly tucked her son’s head back into the swaddling each time he tried to peek out, shooed the little fox to one side, then happily rested her head on the bundle of coins and soon drifted into deep sleep.

Tie Xinyuan could not sleep. Over and over, he tried to control his tongue and practice speaking—being an infant, his greatest trouble was his inability to communicate. But he did not intend to start talking to his mother tomorrow; that would only frighten her—and the whole city.

Through a gap in the swaddling, Tie Xinyuan gazed at the pitch-black sky, a strange smile upon his lips. In a clear, resonant whisper, he said, “I have arrived!”

Wang Rouhua’s breathing was even; she was fast asleep and did not hear her son’s odd proclamation. The little fox at his feet heard it, pricked up its ears in confusion, and, hearing nothing more, nestled its nose back into its tiny tail.