1. The Dust of Gaochang

The tenth month of the Zongzhang era. The autumn wind swept through the streets of Gaochang like a blade, lifting yellow sand from the Gobi and scattering it over the rammed-earth walls, lending the ancient city a hazy, golden-yellow tint.

Li Shaojin stood in the back hall of the silk shop, his fingers running over a bolt of plain silk as his eyes narrowed slightly. It was fine quality Shu silk, long since become rare on the Western Regions market, its price now double what it fetched in Chang'an. Across from him sat the Sogdian merchant Cao Yanyan, his deep-set eyes carrying a faint smile, the weathered lines on his face betraying years of wind and sun along the trade routes.

"Brother Li, this consignment—I'm leaving it entirely in your hands," Cao Yanyan spoke in fluent Tang dialect, only the slightest alien lilt. "I leave for Chang'an tomorrow. Heaven knows when I'll return to Gaochang."

Li Shaojin withdrew his hand, his expression placid. "Since you trust me so, Brother Cao, naturally I'll do my utmost. The debt agreement from before..."

"No hurry, no hurry." Cao Yanyan waved his hand. "It's only a hundred bolts of silk. Given our many years of dealings, do I still fear you'll cheat me?"

He laughed heartily, but Li Shaojin did not join in. He knew the Sogdian's words were not merely pleasantries; the merchant who traveled between Chang'an and the Western Regions had eyes that could see into a man's very bones. To do business with such a man, sincerity was the only wise path.

"When you return from Chang'an, the principal and interest will naturally be settled and ready for collection."

The two bowed to each other in parting. Cao Yanyan rose and departed, his servant outside quickly stepping forward to drape a thick felt cloak over his shoulders. Li Shaojin escorted him to the door, watching the Sogdian's figure vanish into the yellow dust of the long street, until the wind erased even his footprints.

"You've seen off the god of wealth, sir. Shouldn't we set off some firecrackers to celebrate?"

The shop assistant, Wang San, sidled up with a sycophantic grin. Li Shaojin glanced at him coolly, and Wang San immediately straightened his face, not daring another word.

"Cao Yanyan is no benefactor; he's a shrewd man." Li Shaojin turned back into the shop, his tone indifferent. "This consignment is only entrusted to us because he's too busy to manage it himself. Guard it well. If anything goes wrong, none of us will escape responsibility."

Wang San repeatedly voiced his assent, but inwardly he disagreed. In his view, Cao Yanyan was simply easy to talk to—what was a hundred bolts of silk between old friends? His master was far too cautious.

Li Shaojin, however, understood better than anyone that in the Western Regions, on the frontier, excessive warmth between merchants often concealed hidden thorns. Cao Yanyan was a Sogdian, and the Sogdians' skill in business was etched into their very bones. This sudden, eager departure for Chang'an was not as simple as it appeared on the surface.

As dusk fell, the streets of Gaochang grew even more desolate. Curfew was not strictly enforced, but ordinary folk had long since retired behind their doors, leaving only the occasional camel bell ringing from the caravanserai.

Li Shaojin sat alone in the rear court, a pot of浑浊的 wine before him, along with a sheet of paper covered in figures. These were the accounts of his dealings with Cao Yanyan over the years, every transaction, every debt clearly recorded. His gaze fell on the latest entry: "Tenth month, third day, borrowed one hundred bolts of Shu silk, at twenty percent interest per month, repayable within three months."

Twenty percent monthly interest was hardly low, but in Gaochang it was quite common. Hu merchants lent to Han, Han merchants lent to Hu; money passed back and forth, each transaction profiting from the price difference. Li Shaojin knew Cao Yanyan would use his journey to Chang'an to buy up scarce Western Regions goods. A single round trip, and the profit would far exceed the interest on this silk.

"I'm still not ruthless enough," Li Shaojin muttered to himself, draining the rough wine in one gulp.

Just then, a hurried knock came at the door.

Wang San scrambled to open it and found a travel-worn youth standing outside, his clothing covered in dust, his face haggard. As soon as he saw Li Shaojin, the youth dropped to his knees.

"Master Li, save me!"

Li Shaojin helped him up and, by the light of the oil lamp, recognized him. He was Shi Pu, the bookkeeper who followed Cao Yanyan. Though young, he was meticulous with accounts and could handle any transaction with clarity. Cao Yanyan often praised him in Li Shaojin's presence, calling him a valuable talent.

"Get up and speak. What has happened?"

Shi Pu's eyes were red, his voice choking. "My master... my master has met with disaster on the road!"

Li Shaojin's heart lurched. "Speak plainly."

"Today at noon, the master and I set out from the city. Passing Shazao Ridge, we suddenly came upon a group of horsemen racing their steeds. They ran wild, and my master couldn't dodge in time..." Shi Pu's tears streamed down. "He was trampled by their horses, vomiting blood endlessly. Before I could find a physician, he breathed his last."

A chill ran through Li Shaojin's entire body. Cao Yanyan, dead, just like that?

"Where are the riders?"

"The wind was fierce and the sand blinding; I couldn't see clearly." Shi Pu wiped his tears, a glint of hatred flashing in his eyes. "I only remember their clothes were splendid—they must have been the sons of nobles. By the time I carried my master back to the city, they had long since vanished."

Li Shaojin was silent for a long moment. The death of Cao Yanyan was not only a tragedy; it also meant that silk, the debt, and future dealings had all become tangled, impossible to unravel.

"Where is your master's body now?"

"In a charity coffin at Ci'en Temple outside the city." Shi Pu's voice trembled. "I have come to beg Master Li, for my master's spirit in heaven, to see that the debt between you is properly settled. Otherwise, my master's family in Chang'an..."

"You may rest assured." Li Shaojin helped him to his feet, his voice grave. "I, Li Shaojin, have always kept my word. The debt to your master will be repaid in full, with no deception. But the man who killed him must also be brought to justice."

A strange light flickered in Shi Pu's eyes, but he said nothing, merely bowing his head to offer thanks.

Three days later, the Gaochang County government office received a complaint.

The county magistrate, Kong Zhen, studied the document by lamplight and frowned deeply. The complaint was filed by one Cao Lushan, identifying himself as the younger brother of the Sogdian merchant Cao Yanyan, accusing the Han merchant Li Shaojin of refusing to return one hundred bolts of Shu silk borrowed by his deceased brother, along with the interest. Attached to the complaint were a copy of the debt agreement and an account of the transactions, all written with meticulous care.

"This Cao Lushan says he traveled thousands of li from Chang'an—the journey could not have been so swift," Kong Zhen mused, tapping the desk.

The clerk beside him stepped closer and spoke softly, "Your Excellency, this complaint is indeed suspicious. But the debt agreement is genuine. The man has arrived in Gaochang and is now lodging at the Sogdian caravanserai. And..."

"And what?"

"This morning, the Pei mansion sent someone with a message," the clerk said, lowering his voice. "The Chief Clerk, Lord Pei, takes this matter very seriously and urges Your Excellency to judge the case strictly."

Kong Zhen's heart tightened. Pei Lun, the Chief Clerk of the Anxi Protectorate, held a high position and was the most powerful official in Gaochang. For him to take an interest in a commercial dispute among merchants was certainly unusual.

"What is this Li Shaojin's background?"

"A Han merchant from Liangzhou, traded in Gaochang for years. His reputation is not bad." The clerk hesitated. "But I have heard that he and the deceased Cao Yanyan had frequent dealings, and their debts ran deep. Perhaps—"

"Perhaps what?"

"Perhaps he killed to escape the debt, then shifted the blame onto others?"

Kong Zhen said nothing, only staring at the complaint on the desk. After a long while, he slowly spoke. "Summon the accused Li Shaojin for trial. And dispatch men to Shazao Ridge to investigate, to see what really happened that day."

The night of the crime had been one of revelry.

Pei Yu, son of Chief Clerk Pei Lun, together with several young officers from the Protectorate, galloped wildly along the official road beyond the city. The torchlight cast shifting shadows on the dunes as they shouted and laughed, the excitement of the race making their blood run hot.

"The last one to reach the beacon tower treats everyone to a month's wine!"

Pei Yu raised his whip, his fine steed charging like an arrow released. The dust kicked up by the horses' hooves veiled the moonlight, and his companions followed close behind, their cheers rising and falling.

Suddenly, the lead horse let out a long neigh, its forelegs rearing high, nearly throwing Pei Yu from the saddle.

"What's the matter?" a companion asked from behind.

Pei Yu steadied himself and looked down. On the road lay a man, curled up, groaning in pain. His horse, having just flown over that stretch, must have trampled this unlucky soul lying here.

"You there, can you walk?"

The man on the ground did not answer, only his body trembled. Pei Yu dismounted and stepped closer. In the dim moonlight, he saw the man's chest marked with a horseshoe-shaped wound, blood staining the yellow sand dark red.

"How is he?" His companions gathered around, their faces turning grim.

"Dead weight." A young officer snorted coldly. "Brother Pei, this place is remote and dark. No one will know. Let's just leave quickly."

Pei Yu frowned. To kill a man meant trouble, but the law of the Tang Dynasty was no trifle. Even as the son of a Chief Clerk, he could not face a murder charge unscathed.

At that moment, a faint sound came from the shadows of the dunes nearby.

"Someone's there!"

A companion drew his sword and pursued, but found only a set of disordered footprints leading toward the city. The man had fled.

"Damn it." Pei Yu's face darkened. "This is bad."

"Don't panic," the young officer said, lowering his voice. "Let's return to the mansion first and discuss with the Chief Clerk. The protectorate's yamen is full of our people. Besides, everyone knows that those Hu merchants have been scheming against each other for years—who can say who the real killer is?"

Pei Yu said nothing, only cast a final glance at the body on the ground before spurring his horse away.

The yellow sand soon covered the bloodstains. The moonlight was cold as frost, the cold wind blew hard, and the corpse beneath the dunes was slowly being swallowed by the darkness.

Back at the Pei mansion, Chief Clerk Pei Lun listened to his son's account, his face calm and unruffled as still water, so much so that Pei Yu grew uneasy.

"Father, my son knows his wrong, but..."

"There is no 'but.'" Pei Lun cut him off, his voice flat. "A man has died. This is no small matter."

Pei Yu's heart chilled, and he hurriedly knelt. "Father, save me!"

Pei Lun glanced at him, neither anger nor tenderness in his eyes—only calculation.

"Do you know who the dead man is?"

"A... a merchant, a Sogdian by the look of him."

"His name is Cao Yanyan." Pei Lun's voice carried a hint of mockery. "The Sogdian who walks between Chang'an and the Western Regions, known to everyone in the Gaochang markets. His younger brother has already arrived in the city, and the complaint to the county office was filed this morning."

Pei Yu's face went pale as death.

"But," Pei Lun's tone shifted, "this Cao Yanyan, it so happens, had an unsettled debt with a Han merchant named Li Shaojin."

Pei Yu was stunned. "Father, you mean..."

"You need do nothing." Pei Lun rose and walked to the window, his back to his son, his voice cold as iron. "Remember, you were not at Shazao Ridge that night. You were drinking with friends in the mansion—your friends will all prove it. As for the dead man..."

He turned, his eyes icy.

"A man who, to escape a debt, kills his creditor. Such a scoundrel is far more plausible than a carefree noble's son who was merely racing his horse, is it not?"

Pei Yu's heart pounded violently. He understood his father's meaning: to shift the blame entirely onto that unfortunate merchant, Li Shaojin.

"This child... understands."

Pei Lun nodded, his expression finally softening a little.

"Rise. Call on the county magistrate tomorrow. The Protectorate has long wished to tighten its grip on Gaochang's merchant class. Your case, well handled, could prove a credit to us."

Pei Yu rose, the cold sweat on his back soaking his inner garment, but his heart was now calm.

It was nothing more than the life of another merchant. In the Western Regions, at the frontier, what was the death of a Hu trader? The desert wind would erase it clean.

But neither Pei Lun nor Pei Yu noticed that outside the high wall of the rear court, a shadowy figure had slipped silently away into the night.

Ci'en Temple outside Gaochang city.

Cao Lushan knelt before his brother's spirit tablet, his eyes dry and tearless. His journey from Chang'an had been long and bitter, yet upon arriving in Gaochang, he had not rushed to the government office. Instead, he first visited the place where his brother had breathed his last, and every wine shop and tea house along the way.

He knew his elder brother's habits. A cautious man like Cao Yanyan would never walk the official road at high noon, on such a barren stretch, alone. There had to be a reason—something no one else knew.

"The complaint has been filed, Second Master."

Shi Pu's voice came from behind. Cao Lushan did not turn around, only spoke quietly.

"Shi Pu, you followed my brother for many years. Do you know why he was so anxious to return to Chang'an this time?"

Shi Pu was silent for a moment. "The master said it was to settle a deal."

"He always said that." Cao Lushan finally rose and faced him. "But in these past few days, I've looked through my brother's account books. The business in Gaochang was not yet concluded; there was no need for him to hurry back to Chang'an. What was he truly seeking?"

Shi Pu lowered his head, his voice low. "Forgive my bluntness, Second Master, but your elder brother... he did not tell me the whole truth."

Cao Lushan studied him for a long moment and said no more.

He knew Shi Pu was hiding something. But at this moment, what mattered most was not Shi Pu's secret—it was finding the true killer.

"Tomorrow, the court session opens," Cao Lushan said softly. "I want to see what kind of man this Li Shaojin really is."

Shi Pu lifted his head, a faint, elusive smile flickering across his lips.

"Rest assured, Second Master. The truth always comes to light."

In the main hall of the temple, the candle flames leaped and swayed, the shadows of the two men stretching long against the wall, like the indistinct shapes of some unseen abyss silently drawing near.

Outside the temple, the night wind howled mournfully. Somewhere in the distant dunes, a lone wolf's howl rose and fell, persistent and lingering.

This was the Gaochang of the Zongzhang era, a stage of gold and dust where merchants came and went as countless as river carp. Every man wore a mask, and behind every smile, a blade was hidden.

And on this stage, a drama of vengeance and fate was about to begin.

Those who would dive into the abyss had already taken their first step.

The moon was hidden, and the wind over the dunes was rising.