Chapter 5: She's Quite Fierce
The north wind swept fine snow through the streets, its chill biting straight through cloth and bone. Pedestrians hunched their shoulders and tucked their hands deep into their sleeves. Fan Changyu strode against the wind, a black iron cleaver in her grip, the veins on the back of her hand standing out starkly.
At the entrance of Minjie Alley in the western quarter, a crowd had gathered. Curses, the crash of breaking objects, frantic scolding, and children's cries blended into a chaotic din.
Someone with sharp eyes spotted her.
"Changyu's back!"
Seeing the cleaver in her hand, several people sucked in a breath.
"Is she going to use that knife on her uncle?"
"Well, Fan Da is being outrageous. Fan Er and his wife have barely been in the ground a month, and he's already trying to seize the orphan girls' property to pay off his gambling debts. He's not afraid their ghosts will drag him out of bed at night…"
"Those gambling‑den thugs aren't easy to deal with. Even with a knife, a girl like Changyu might not be able to drive them out…"
The area before the Fan household was a wreck. Broken jars and bottles littered the ground; tables and chairs lay overturned from the doorway all the way inside. Several burly men were still ransacking the house, smashing anything in their way. Even the bedding had been flung onto the floor.
Little Chang Ning sobbed uncontrollably in Madam Zhao's arms. Madam Zhao's eyes were red as she pleaded, "Stop smashing! Please stop!"
But no one paid her the slightest heed.
Fan Da hovered beside a man who looked like a gambling‑den manager, bowing and scraping. Clutching one hand protectively, he said with a forced smile,
"Master Jin, once we find the property deed, I'll go straight to the yamen to transfer ownership. The house will be mine, and I'll have money to pay the debt. I'll pay, I'll pay…"
Master Jin didn't bother to look at him properly.
"If we don't find the deed today, I'll chop off that hand of yours first and take it as a down payment."
Fan Da paled and clutched his hand tighter.
"We'll find it, we'll find it…"
A voice suddenly rang out from the doorway—sharp, furious, and powerful enough to make eardrums ache.
"All of you—stop right now!"
The sound cut through the chaos like a blade. Everyone turned.
A young woman stood framed in the doorway, snow clinging to her clothes, her eyes as cold and sharp as the cleaver she held. Even the sliver of daylight behind her seemed to shrink.
The moment Chang Ning saw her sister, her face crumpled.
"Sister!"
Fan Da's eyes darted nervously. He hunched his shoulders, shrinking beside the gambling‑den manager.
Master Jin glanced at the cleaver and gave a dismissive laugh.
"Oh? The Fan family's eldest daughter."
Changyu surveyed the wreckage, her expression taut with fury.
"Take your people and get out."
Master Jin raised an eyebrow, amused by her audacity.
"The gambling den follows rules. Fan Da says this house is his. We're here to collect the deed to settle his debt. Your family affairs have nothing to do with us."
Changyu's gaze snapped to Fan Da, sharp as a blade.
"This house is yours?"
Fan Da avoided her eyes. He tried to soften his voice.
"Niece, your uncle is desperate. If I don't pay today, I'll lose a hand. Your parents are gone, and you and Ning have no brothers. When you marry, you'll need your mother's family to support you. Help your uncle this once—bring out the deed. I'll treat you and Ning like my own daughters. Your cousin will be like your brother. When you marry, you'll have backing—"
Changyu laughed coldly.
"If you want to pay your gambling debts with a house, use your own. Using ours—what logic is that? Your son is just like you. If he isn't chased down and maimed one day, it'll be a miracle. And you expect me to rely on him?"
Fan Da flushed with humiliation.
"How can you be so vicious? Cursing your cousin? He's about to be engaged! If we give up this house, how will he marry? You and Ning are girls—you'll marry out. What do you need this house for?"
"What I do with what my parents left me is none of your concern."
Seeing persuasion fail, Fan Da dropped the pretence.
"Fan Er had no son. Now that he's dead, the property legally falls to me. What are you—a girl who'll marry out—fighting for? Planning to take it to your husband's family?"
He sneered.
"Is it because you brought death to your parents, then had your engagement broken off? Afraid no one will marry a cursed girl, so you want to keep the property as dowry? Your sickly sister probably won't live long under your unlucky influence. Who would dare marry a harbinger of death like you?"
No one saw her move.
One moment the cleaver was in her hand.
The next, it was buried in the wall behind Fan Da—so close it sliced a few strands of his hair as it passed.
Fan Da froze, face drained of colour, legs trembling violently.
The gambling‑den thugs, who had been enjoying the spectacle, suddenly realised the young woman before them was not merely angry—she was dangerous.
Changyu's voice was low and icy.
"The property my parents left is for Chang Ning's medicine. Leave now. Otherwise… the gambling den only wants one of your hands. I'll chop up your entire family before I go to see my parents."
Fan Da shuddered.
"Th‑then let's go to the yamen! Let the magistrate decide who the house belongs to!"
He turned to Master Jin with a trembling smile.
"Master Jin… perhaps give me two more days?"
Master Jin snorted.
"Huixian Gambling Den has never delayed debt collection. If word spreads, people will think we're weak."
He eyed Fan Da coldly.
"Or would you prefer to pay with your right hand?"
Fan Da broke into a cold sweat.
"N‑no, but this girl—"
He glanced fearfully at Changyu.
Master Jin waved a hand.
"If you're certain the house is yours, my men will find the deed."
He gestured.
"What are you standing around for? Keep searching!"
The thugs resumed smashing and overturning furniture.
Changyu's fists clenched so tightly her knuckles cracked.
Master Jin smiled thinly.
"Miss Fan, don't blame us. This is simply business."
Madam Zhao, frantic, suddenly pushed through the crowd outside and ran to the Song family's door.
"Song Yan! Fan Da brought gambling‑den thugs to steal Changyu's deed! You're a scholar—Fan Er and his wife treated you well. Can't you say a word for her? You're a juren now—surely they'll give you face!"
Everyone in the alley knew what was happening—yet the Song family's door remained firmly shut.
No matter how loudly Madam Zhao knocked, no one answered.
At last she broke down, crying and cursing.
"Song Yan! Did you study all those books for nothing? When your father died, you were too poor to buy a coffin. Have you forgotten who bought one and buried him? Aren't you afraid your father's bones are being crushed in the ground?"
Her voice echoed through the alley.
Inside, Madam Song trembled with fury.
"That foul‑mouthed hag! We've broken off the engagement. Their mess has nothing to do with us. I'll go out and—"
"Mother," Song Yan said sharply.
She stopped.
"Never mind. She wants to drag us into this. If I go out, I'll fall into her trap. Yan, you mustn't go either. You're aiming for an official career. Don't get involved with that family again."
---
In the Zhao family loft, Xie Zheng heard everything—the smashing, the shouting, Madam Zhao's desperate cries.
It sounded like many men were causing trouble, while the young woman was alone. The elderly couple could do little.
Outside, the grey sky had cleared. Frost melted on the eaves, reflecting a pale, indifferent light.
Xie Zheng's face was just as cold. His lips pressed into a thin line.
Those scoundrels were giving him a headache.
He gripped the crutches Carpenter Zhao had made for him that morning. His wounds tore open again as he stood, blood seeping through the bandages—but he ignored it.
If he didn't deal with those troublemakers, he doubted he would find any peace.
---
Inside the Fan household, the thugs had turned the place upside down. They even tapped the floor tiles with sticks, searching for hidden compartments.
Chang Ning cowered behind her sister, sobbing. Changyu shielded her with one arm, her head bowed so her expression was hidden.
One thug reached the table where her parents' memorial tablets stood. He knocked them over and lifted his foot to step on them—
A hand seized his collar.
A moment later, he was hurled out the door with such force that his head struck the threshold. He lay there, stunned.
Everyone froze.
Changyu now stood where he had been. She stared at the fallen tablets, a cold wind lifting the loose strands of hair at her temples. Blood dripped from her palm—her nails had pierced her skin from how tightly she had clenched her fists.
"I'll give you one more chance," she said quietly.
"Leave—or not?"
Her voice was calm. Terrifyingly calm.
The thugs exchanged uneasy glances. Fan Da had already retreated to the doorway, trembling like a quail.
Master Jin, humiliated in front of so many onlookers, snarled,
"Are you dead? Keep smashing! I've collected debts in Linan Town for years—am I going to be afraid of a little girl?"
The thugs tried to muster courage, but the sight of their companion lying outside made their legs weak.
Still, they rushed forward.
Changyu didn't even lift her head. She flicked the fallen wooden stick up with her toe, caught it, and swung.
The first few men folded over instantly, thrown backwards, retching.
She didn't pause. The stick moved like a long‑handled blade—sweeping, jabbing, chopping, slashing. The thugs were tossed out of the house one by one like sacks of grain, crying out in pain.
The crowd gasped in waves.
Fan Da's face turned ashen. He shrank further into the corner.
Master Jin tried to flee, but a black iron cleaver flew past him and embedded itself in the doorframe, so close it nearly shaved off his nose.
He froze.
"M‑Miss Fan… a misunderstanding… all a misunderstanding…"
From outside came a shout.
"The constables are here! Make way!"
The troublemakers exhaled in relief.
Carpenter Zhao arrived with the constables, panting.
"In broad daylight, bullying an orphan girl—do you have any—"
He stopped mid‑sentence when he saw the thugs sprawled outside and Master Jin pinned by a cleaver.
Xie Zheng, who had just descended the stairs on his crutches, paused as well, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
He had sensed earlier that the young woman's breathing was steady and strong—no worse than a trained fighter. He had not expected she truly was one.
A blue‑robed scholar—Song Yan—opened his door a crack, saw the constables, glanced at the Fan household, and quietly shut the door again.
Inside, Changyu forced down the fierce aura that had surged up in her rage. She knelt and picked up her parents' memorial tablets. Blood stained the wood; she wiped it clean with her sleeve.
Her father had taught her that long‑handled knife technique—but had forbidden her from using it before others unless her life was in danger.
She had broken that rule today—not for her life, but for her parents' tablets.
She held them close, eyes red.
"Father… don't blame Changyu…"
---
With the constables present, the situation quickly stabilised.
Though she had injured several men, they had invaded her home first. The constables reprimanded the gambling‑den thugs and ordered Master Jin to compensate her for damages. She was not required to pay for their medical treatment.
Fan Da loudly insisted the house belonged to him. A constable gave him a cold look.
"If you want to claim the house, write a petition and submit it to the magistrate. Let him decide."
Fan Da fell silent at once.
The gamblers limped away like a row of battered gourds. Fan Da slunk off in disgrace. The crowd dispersed.
Changyu bowed to the head constable.
"Thank you, Uncle Wang."
Wang, an old acquaintance of her father, sighed.
"Today they were clearly in the wrong, so I could act without appearing biased. But if Fan Da truly files a petition… your house may not be safe."
Fan Da had not gone to the yamen yet only because lawsuits were costly and troublesome. But now that he had failed to seize the deed, he might very well resort to it.
Changyu's face was drawn with exhaustion.
"I've tried everything. I even consulted lawyers. They all said I cannot transfer the title of the house my parents left."
Wang considered this for a long moment.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "there is another way."