Chapter Sixty-Six: Knocking on a Widow's Door at Night

Yang Xiaolin walked away, but his eyes couldn’t help glancing once more at the grand entrance. He did not know what sorrow weighed so heavily on the young mistress’s heart, nor what cause made her so melancholy, but an innocent impulse stirred within him—an urge to do something, anything, for her.

When all the brothers had arrived, Yang Xiaolin instructed Biaozi to lead them in cleaning up the rooms. Then he asked Lu Mozong to seek out a few more residences; if none were vacant, renting from others would suffice, as long as they were fit to live in.

Men in their line of work could not stay in inns or taverns, where too many people came and went and where the authorities frequently conducted inspections. It would be foolish to bring hostages to such places after a successful job. Private homes were the safest option.

Aside from Lu Mozong, most of these men were setting foot in Beijing for the first time. Despite their disappointment at the sight of the city upon entering, they still hoped to explore, to walk beneath the shadow of the imperial palace, to watch the street performers at Tianqiao, even to wander through the famed Eight Alleys.

But when they voiced these desires to Yang Xiaolin, he immediately refused. He sternly informed them that, from the moment they settled in, no one was permitted to go outside unless absolutely necessary.

Safety was paramount. Before the task at hand, Yang Xiaolin would not let a single careless mistake from any man drag all the brothers into danger.

Outings were permitted only for genuine needs, with strict regulations on the number of people, the routes, and the time allowed. For instance, today, Yang Xiaolin allowed only eight men to leave. Lu Mozong and one other brother went to find lodgings; three others, whose accents matched those of the inner provinces, went out to purchase basic necessities, and were to return immediately after.

Yang Xiaolin himself took three brothers to Dongjiaomin Lane to observe the conditions there.

Even in its dilapidation, Beijing was unlike the great cities beyond the Pass, such as Fengtian. The journey by carriage from here to Dongjiaomin Lane took half an hour, so even though Yang Xiaolin hurried his steps, night had fully fallen by the time he returned.

This excursion served only to familiarize himself with the route; he could not get inside. The foreigners were well aware that the war had just ended and that the Chinese harbored deep resentment toward them. Often, as they walked the streets, rotten vegetables and bricks would be hurled at them, so the gates were heavily guarded. At every intersection, soldiers from various nations stood watch. Ordinary citizens could not even approach—the dark muzzles of rifles would immediately be trained on anyone who dared draw near.

The rooms were now ready for habitation. Yang Xiaolin entered and sat on the bed, where Biaozi hastened to bring him a cup of hot water. “Boss, what’s the situation there?”

Yang Xiaolin took a sip from the bowl. “Getting inside won’t be easy. How are the brothers? Is everyone settled?”

There were only seven brothers in this room. Yang Xiaolin was concerned about the rest, for this time, not even the slightest misstep could be afforded. A single mistake could plunge them all into peril, and perhaps they would never return to Gulu Mountain.

Biaozi patted his chest with a grin. “Don’t worry, Boss, this isn’t my first time handling matters like this. Lu Mozong managed to rent two houses, most of the brothers are settled, and I’ve had a few disguise themselves as beggars and sleep on the streets.”

Yang Xiaolin was momentarily taken aback, then realized these were sentries. He knew sentries were necessary, but his own plan had been to station brothers at suitable locations in rotation. Biaozi’s method was clearly more thorough.

Beijing now had many whose homes were destroyed by war, forced to sleep in the streets. His men sleeping outside would arouse no suspicion. It seemed Biaozi was indeed a seasoned bandit. “Good work. But consider the brothers’ well-being—sleeping outside for a night or two is fine, but too long and they won’t hold up.”

Biaozi replied, “They’ll sleep on the streets at night, and during the day I’ll let them rest indoors. Don’t worry, Boss, before they went out, each drank two taels of liquor and ate their fill. They’ll be fine.”

This lad handled things admirably, and Yang Xiaolin looked at him with approval. “Biaozi, tomorrow we’ll go together and have a look. The foreigners may live here, but they can’t truly separate themselves from this vast city. We’ll find an opportunity.”

“Yes, Boss,” Biaozi responded.

A month of arduous travel had left Yang Xiaolin truly exhausted. Though their mission was still uncertain, at least they had reached Beijing. Even if the quilt beneath him was laid directly on the floor, with only a thin layer of straw for padding, hard as it was, Yang Xiaolin lay down and said, “Let’s sleep now. We’ll get up early tomorrow and scout around.”

Beside him, Lu Mozong pulled Yang Xiaolin up. “Boss, this isn’t where you’re supposed to sleep.”

Yang Xiaolin was surprised. “Not here? Then where?”

Lu Mozong answered awkwardly, “You and Brother Biao are to stay at Master Zhao’s house. I rented a wing room there with a soft bed.”

Yang Xiaolin sprang to his feet. “Mozong, who else is in Master Zhao’s house?”

“Not many. Just the young mistress and her little son. He’s only five.”

Yang Xiaolin’s mouth twisted. “What were you thinking? Tell me, did you rent from her just because she’s a woman alone?”

Yang Xiaolin genuinely feared Lu Mozong had used such means to secure a better place for him. Perhaps Lu Mozong wouldn’t, but with Biaozi involved, it was hard to say. He didn’t know why, but he felt unwilling to harm that woman. In this feudal era, a grown man renting a widow’s room? He himself didn’t care, but what of her reputation?

Biaozi hurried to explain, “Boss, you’ve got Mozong wrong. The local magistrate came by earlier, heard we were looking for a house, and sent us to rent from the Zhao family.”

“The magistrate came? He didn’t suspect anything?”

Lu Mozong replied, “No, I grew up with him. He’ll say nothing, you can rest easy, Boss.”

Yang Xiaolin nodded, though he remained puzzled. “Why did the magistrate want us to rent from the Zhao family? Doesn’t he know only the young mistress lives there?”

Lu Mozong sighed. “Master Zhao passed away last year. When the foreigners attacked Beijing, the young master fought them and now all that remains is a mound of earth. Anything of value in the Zhao home was taken by those foreigners. The magistrate said the young mistress supports her child by sewing for others. Boss, the Zhao family was truly decent, so I rented from them, even though the rent is a bit steep.”

Yang Xiaolin waved him off. “Enough, I understand.”

Lu Mozong relaxed visibly, a smile appearing on his face. “Alright, I’ll take you there. It’s late, and the young mistress said she can’t open the main gate for us. We’re to enter through the side door.”

Yang Xiaolin and Biaozi followed Lu Mozong toward the Zhao residence. It was the finest house in the area, with soft beds inside. In truth, none of that mattered to Yang Xiaolin. He wanted to tell Lu Mozong it was too late to go, that knocking on a widow’s door at night—even the side door—was not proper.

Yet, when the words reached his lips, he didn’t say them.