Old Weidun had never been a fool. These days, he was simply the butcher and house executioner of the Wen Mi family—known across the Middle Kingdom as "The Guide of Eight Trigrams"—but there was a time when he'd headed the investigations department in a county town. If there was one thing he could sense from ten thousand li away, it was when someone was lying. The signs were always there: shifty eyes, sweaty palms, a racing pulse, dilated pupils, dry mouth—the body betrays anyone who dares defy Heaven itself and speak falsehoods. In his day, back in the Silent Screams division, it was easy to expose such liars: you just had to string them up on a hook and run a torch along their sides and heels. The northerners took it even further—they'd press a red-hot coin to a man's tongue. Not for long, just a little. But if someone was lying, and afraid to speak the truth, their tongue would be dry, and the coin would burn them. But if they spoke the truth—no burn. The northerners liked to say the Radiant Goddess Guayin would not allow a lie, and punished falsehood, but he had always known the real reason.
Nobody could lie to Old Weidun for one simple reason: he knew how to lie himself. He knew every trick. Breaking liars was easy—as easy as cracking nuts with a hammer. One tap, and they broke.
Even so… he could still be wrong. For now, he was staring at this cheeky girl and genuinely didn't know—was she lying? On the one hand, she wasn't stupid, she should know what twenty lashes meant. She wasn't afraid… or was she? She had to be afraid. Anyone in her shoes would be. And where there's fear, there's anger—helpless rage. He'd grown used to people looking at him like that—with fear, with powerless resentment. But this girl…
"Tell me, esteemed Xiao Tai, why are you acting like this?" he finally asked, deciding to figure it out for himself. "Madam Cho has left. You can speak openly."
"Am I not behaving as a proper girl of the Wen Mi house should?" she answered with a question of her own, blinking those large eyes. Weidun thought to himself that this Xiao Tai would never come off as a 'proper' girl, even if she started cultivating the Pearl of Longevity right now and lived for ten thousand years. It just wasn't in her—he could see it written on her forehead. The same bold look as that southern warlady, the fearless Sun Sen, who could handle a composite bow on horseback without effort atop her Red Wind steed. The same audacious glint.
"Why don't you…" Old Weidun was about to say "fear me?" but then he saw the quick glance the girl shot at the battle whip hanging on the wall. Old, worn, made of tough brown leather, woven from five tails of two-colored serpents; it was made for fighting, to tear flesh from bone in combat—especially if a lead weight was woven into the end. It hung there as a memento; no servants were flogged with it. One swing and—with just the right effort—you could cripple or even kill a person. But most servants didn't realize this; to them, the regular whip, half as long, was the real terror, since that was what hit them. Few could tell at a glance which was more dangerous. But this girl understood. She even shuddered.
Weidun smiled to himself. So, she thinks he's going to use the battle whip? The way her shoulders tensed and those little fists clenched meant she was scared. Really scared. She knew exactly what kind of wounds that whip could inflict. First she looked at the whip, then—almost involuntarily—at his hands, imagining just how he'd handle the weapon and shred her to pieces. Northerners sometimes even wove thorny vines in, so a single lash left no intact skin. Curious—how did she know this?
He kept watching Xiao Tai, expecting her to break down as so many others did, but she straightened her spine, relaxed, and let a smile play on her lips again. If he weren't so observant, he'd never have noticed the brief hesitation that betrayed her fear.
"Why don't I… what?" the girl echoed, "Honored Weidun, I admire your skill, but after all…"
"Hmph!" Weidun snorted, realizing what this shameless girl was hinting at. Wait a minute, is she trying to throw me off with flattery? he thought. He'd wanted to ask why she wasn't afraid of him, or of pain and punishment—but now he saw she was afraid. She wasn't dumb, she knew what 'twenty lashes' meant, and she was scared. So why was she still smiling and acting friendly? Nobody had ever acted like that before. Back in the days of the Silent Screams, he'd seen every type—begging, pleading, hating, cursing, threatening—but this? Calm, almost friendly… No one ever tried that. And he could tell this girl was sincere; she couldn't lie—all her feelings showed on her face.
"Why aren't you angry at me? Why don't you curse me?" he tried again. "That would be normal in this situation. Twenty lashes is no joke."
"What's the point, Honored Weidun?" she sighed and smiled again, "You'll still give me twenty lashes. Cursing or not cursing you makes no difference. Besides, you're just doing your job—nothing personal. The cook is supposed to prepare dinner, and you—punish the guilty. Why should we hate Master Ling for cooking our meals? Now, if you were stalking the manor beating everyone with a whip because it pleased you, that'd be a different matter and maybe worthy of a curse. But this… you do your work, and you do it well. It's not fair to hate you for that."
"That doesn't stop anyone else," old Weidun smiled. "I've heard words like that maybe once or twice from the chambermaids… Even the kitchen girls aren't far behind."
"May I ask, Honored Weidun—did they say it to your face? No? You see, those people are simply afraid of you. That's a normal reaction," the girl answered sadly. "I'm scared of you too. And your whip. But it's not like I can avoid it, so why drag it out? You found a way to scourge me without leaving marks, and all thanks to your skill and sharp mind."
"You speak so calmly about it?" he asked, folding a piece of cotton cloth several times. "It will still hurt very much. There won't be any marks, but it will hurt. I'm not going to go easy on you, Little Silver Bell."
"I would, of course, prefer not to be whipped," she sighed, "Especially with that whip, even through four layers of oiled cotton. But there's nothing either of us can do about it, Honored Weidun."
"Isn't that why you started all this talking, hoping for a gentle pat instead of a flogging?"
"No. Well, yes, of course—but no. First and foremost, I didn't want you or Madam Cho to get in trouble," the girl replied, and old Weidun believed her. She really meant it.
"You're an interesting girl, Little Silver Bell," he smiled, finishing folding the cloth. Suddenly, he realized he didn't really want the conversation to end, even though everything was ready—the oiled cotton cloth, the ropes to tie her down once she lost consciousness, and the whip within reach. He couldn't spend all day with her; he still had to butcher a carcass for dinner. Anyway, flogging a maid was a five-minute business, just a matter of calling someone to carry her back home—or drag her, if needed, once it was over. Nobody could be present for the whipping, of course—this was a respectable household. Afterwards, though, someone would have to carry her back…
So all that was left was to undress her so she wouldn't stain her clothes, wrap her in the cloth, and give her twenty lashes. The oiled cotton would soften the blows, and there'd be almost no marks left on the skin... almost. But it would still hurt. Though not as much as bare skin with no oil...
Yet for some reason, Weidun found he didn't want to stand and take up the whip. He liked just sitting and talking with this strange girl who, for some reason, regarded herself as his equal. And in truth, he thought, nobody ever just talked to him like this. Always the same—kill the livestock, butcher the meat, whip the guilties. Even at meals, he ate alone… and he'd grown used to it. It wasn't anything special, but somehow his heart ached, as if he'd taken a blow. Suddenly, he remembered his days in the Silent Screams, and the smiles of his old colleagues. Duty above all—that's how he'd always lived. Duty to parents. Duty to the Empire. Duty to Lord Wen Mi, who'd taken an old veteran into his service.
"The cloth is ready. Good," he said. The odd girl immediately started undressing, pulling her skirt over her head.
"What are you doing, Silver Bell?! First lean against the goatskin stand, I'll loosen your clothes from the back! Not like this!" old Weidun blurted out, "Put it back on!"
"It'll get dirty!"
"I told you—put it on! Chicks don't teach hens to lay! You don't tell me how to whip you!" he scolded, though he realized he really didn't want to beat this strange girl at all. And he dreaded the thought that, after this, she'd glare at him with resentment like the others, cursing him under her breath. He quickly turned away as she wriggled back into her clothes.
"Go to the stand," he said. She went. He picked up the ropes and bent toward her wrists, then paused, staring at the rough cord in his hand.
"This rope's too rough," he muttered. "Your skin is so thin, it'll bruise through. I think Lord Baoshu wanted no marks?"
"He did, Honored Weidun."
"You can just call me Wei ge."
"Sure, Elder Wei."
"I won't tie your hands or feet, then—you'd only bruise all over. Just hold on to this stick, spread your feet so you don't fall. Like that." He undid the buttons on her back—the maid's uniform fastened at the back, and this crazy girl had been trying to climb out of it headfirst! Once the buttons were open, he saw her skinny back, which trembled under his touch. He spread her clothing, laid the oiled cotton cloth across her back. This way, he would fulfill both the order of Lord Baoshu and young Lady Liling—who, to be honest, was a spoiled princess, but the master let her get away with everything. Soon enough, Lady Liling would be married off, and the master's heart ached for her; it wasn't the best match, her predecessors hadn't lasted a year before dying—one strangled herself in her sleep with a silk ribbon, the other drowned in the pond… in the middle of the night. But Master Baoshu couldn't avoid marrying Lady Liling off—the Wen Mi family owed the Azure Phoenixes a great debt, a massive debt. Lady Liling knew it too, hence her anger, venting it wherever she could. Few people knew these things, but he, Weidun, had once served in the Silent Screams—he knew. The Wen Mi family couldn't afford to feud with the Phoenixes—they were simply too powerful. Only a dynastic marriage could seal peace. The problem was, the Phoenixes wouldn't marry their daughters off to the Wen Mi sons—those stronger kept their daughters, and besides, all four of Wen Mi's sons were already married, many times over. It wouldn't do for the Phoenix daughters to be anything but the principal wife. Not proper. Especially not in the Wen Mi house, which might be powerful by Chanyuan standards, but was nothing to the Phoenixes—who had influence nearly everywhere. On the other side, the Phoenixes' heir was available—unmarried. Well, widowed twice, but both wives died. Suspicious? Hard to say—investigations had found nothing, but, of course, the Phoenixes had investigated themselves. There were no proofs, but Lord Baoshu had a terrible feeling about it, and old Weidun agreed. If he were still with the Silent Screams, he would have suspected something the very instant this strange girl appeared in the house. After all, it's easy to make a rich girl into a beggar or a slave—just a week of dirty basements, no food, beatings, and she's broken. But to take a girl from the street and teach her to stare fearlessly into your eyes… that's impossible. Peasant girls were raised to look away, flinch, and fear. You can't break that in a week. It takes a lifetime to learn that—only girls raised in good homes, under protection, who know people will stand up for them, girls who feel safe—only those can square their shoulders and meet your gaze. That's why she couldn't be left with scars—so he'd have thought, if he still worked in the Screams. But now he was just a butcher, and sometimes the family executioner for the Wen Mi family. Such things should be left to Lord Baoshu to ponder. As for Weidun—he would simply perform his duty, as directed.
"Ready, Silver Bell? It will hurt," he warned, taking the whip from the wall. The battle whip remained hanging in its place.
"Thank you for your care, Uncle Wei. I'm ready," she replied, and he could see—even from behind—how white her ears went. Still, he was certain she was smiling. Strange girl. He pitied her. He took the whip in hand.
"Pity this thing's worn out already," he muttered, nicking the leather with his knife—the end unraveled into several thin leather strips. Hit her with this and it'd hardly do a thing—almost just a brush on the back. Well, it wasn't his fault the tool was ruined today. Twenty lashes were required—and twenty she'd get, regardless.
"Well, if you're ready, let's begin…" Old Weidun swung the whip. "One..."