Novel

Lin Wanying: The Lone Star

— The Origin of Shushan Disciple Lin Wanying —

A Calculation Town in Jiangnan, the Lin family — a century of numbers.
A girl born in tune with figures,
yet one winter night she learns what mathematics cannot change —
the blade, the blood, the dying.
— This is her story before Shushan. This is where the lone star begins.

Chapter One   The Lin Family's Girl of Numbers

Sixth year of the Shunde reign, Shuntian Dynasty. Deep autumn.

Along the roads of Jiangnan, there was a small town known as the Calculation Town — Lin Town. Nine in ten residents shared the surname Lin, and mathematics was their birthright, passed down through the generations. The Lin family's lineage in the mathematical arts stretched back to a previous dynasty, when ancestors had taken part in revising the Great Expansion Calendar. For generations since, they had administered the dynasty's expenditure bureau, storehouses, and tax calculations; the clan was not counted among the great noble families, yet their reputation throughout Jiangnan was immense.

The Lin family compound stood at the northern end of Lin Town, only three courtyards deep, yet it held a library tower within its walls — the Jade Lattice Tower. Inside were housed the handwritten mathematical secrets of Lin ancestors across the ages: multiple annotated editions of the Nine Chapters, manuscript copies of the Zhui Shu and the Ji Gu Classic, and even a fragmentary scroll of the Treasury of Mathematical Arts, long lost to the wider world. The townspeople of Lin Town all said that half of all true mathematical knowledge in the realm lived inside the Jade Lattice Tower.

That evening, the lamp on the third floor of the Jade Lattice Tower was still lit.

"Wanying! Wanying!"

Lady Liu's voice rose from below, edged with resignation.

In the study, a girl of about twelve was bent over the desk, brush in hand, the spread of rice paper before her dense with calculations. She wore a pale blue jacket-dress; her hair was pinned up simply with a wooden hairpin, leaving her delicate, intent face clear to see. On the table lay a problem — finding the positive roots of a high-degree equation — that she had "borrowed" today from her grandfather's study. The original problem had been set by the dynasty's Expenditure Bureau to calculate tax apportionment; across all of Lin Town, scarcely a handful of adults could solve it.

"Mother! One more moment — I'm almost there!"

The girl did not look up. Her jade-like fingers flew over the counting rods. She arranged them in vertical notation — units vertical, tens horizontal, hundreds vertical — each shift precise and unhesitating. "Set the heaven-source as variable A, the constant to the right, move the unknown upward, then simplify by direct division..." she murmured aloud, brow lightly furrowed, as though the whole world had shrunk to this single equation.

Before long, the counting rods held their final configuration — the solution to a system of three linear equations. She had taken less than the time for an incense stick to burn. She set down her brush, lifted the paper, and studied it for a moment. The corners of her mouth curved upward.

"Solved it!"

Wanying snatched up the paper, cradling it as though it were treasure, and went clattering downstairs.

In the hall below, the current Lin family head, Lin Huaiyuan, was in conference with several advisors. He was approaching fifty, lean-faced and silver-templed, his every movement carrying a gentle, scholarly air. He had served for many years in the Ministry of Revenue, overseeing Jiangnan's tax calculations; his superiors valued him greatly for his mathematical skill, yet Lin Huaiyuan was a modest man who disliked cultivating powerful connections and had no wish to be drawn into court intrigues.

"Father!" Wanying bounded into the hall, nearly upsetting the teacup in one advisor's hand. "Father, look — I solved it!"

Lin Huaiyuan took the paper. His gaze moved over the calculations, brow furrowing first, then slowly easing, a complicated expression crossing his eyes.

"This is... the problem I left in my study yesterday?" he asked quietly. "This problem draws on the method of three-variable elimination from the Equations chapter of the Nine Chapters. An ordinary adult would need one or two hours to work through it... how long did you take?"

"Less than one incense stick!" Wanying tilted her face up, eyes bright with pride. "Father, look — in the first step I used direct division to eliminate variable A, in the second step I eliminated B, and found that C equals twenty and two-thirds, then substituted back to find A and B..."

Lin Huaiyuan examined each step of his daughter's working in detail, inwardly amazed. This problem was a genuine question from the "Clerk's Examination" that the Ministry of Revenue used to test the mathematical level of district clerks across the realm — the difficulty far exceeded ordinary problems — yet this twelve-year-old child had not only solved it but had found a method more elegant than the standard answer, applying the clan's secret Heaven-Source Equation Method in the process.

"This child..." Lin Huaiyuan glanced at his wife, Lady Liu, who stood in the doorway wearing a smile that was equal parts pride and helplessness.

"Wanying's gift for mathematics has surpassed every member of our Lin family." The white-haired elder seated on the left side of the hall spoke slowly, his voice aged yet firm — Wanying's grandfather, the Lin family patriarch, Lin Jingtang. He had served in the previous dynasty as Deputy Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, overseeing calendrical and mathematical affairs, and had retired to his hometown when illness came, spending his days studying mathematics in the Jade Lattice Tower and guiding the younger generation.

"Grandfather!" Wanying spun around and pressed close to Lin Jingtang's knee. "Grandfather promised — anyone who could solve that problem, you would take them as a student!"

Lin Jingtang laughed heartily and patted his granddaughter on the head. "Good, good, good. This child — more promising than any of your brothers."

Several older Lin cousins in the hall showed looks of mild embarrassment, yet none could deny that Wanying's mathematical talent truly did exceed that of many adults in the household.

"Father," Lin Huaiyuan said, turning to Lin Jingtang with gravity, "is Wanying's gift a blessing or a danger? Gifted as she is, she is still a girl, and if she shines too brightly..."

"You worry too much." Lin Jingtang waved a hand, his tone both mild and firm. "The Lin family has passed down mathematics through the generations — what does that have to do with a person's sex? If this child applies herself without rest, she may become the first female Mathematical Doctor in our family's history, and bring great honor to the clan."

A bright light passed through Wanying's eyes at those words. Though she was still young and did not fully understand what "Mathematical Doctor" meant, her grandfather's words gave her a wordless sense that she was destined by fate to be bound to mathematics.

What she did not know was that this very gift would lead her down a road of blood and fire — and that same gift would, years later, bring her a fateful encounter far across the sea.

That night, Wanying was too excited to sleep. She lay on her sleeping mat, mind full of the new classical texts she would begin studying after formally taking her grandfather as her teacher tomorrow.

Outside, the night was deep and the moonlight like water. In Lin Town's narrow lanes, the night watchman passed through beating his bamboo clapper. Everything was still, as though nothing could disturb the peace of this quiet town. Only here and there, in the thickest part of the night, a few dark shapes slipped across the rooftops — and no one noticed.

Chapter Two   Secrets of the Jade Lattice Tower

The Jade Lattice Tower had three floors. The first housed engraved editions of classical mathematical texts through the ages; the second held manuscript copies of ancestor writings and official mathematical documents from the court; the third floor was Lin Jingtang's private domain, and ordinary family members were not permitted to enter.

Having been accepted as a student, Wanying now had the right to enter the third floor.

One morning, with the mist not yet lifted, Wanying stood at the door of the Jade Lattice Tower's third floor. She was of middling height among her peers, and she could just reach the door ring on tiptoe. Lin Jingtang pushed the door open from behind her; pale morning light poured into the room, row upon row of old bookshelves standing neatly in the dimness, the air carrying faint traces of ink and wood.

"Begin here," Lin Jingtang said, walking to the back of the shelves and retrieving a thick scroll. Its cover bore four ancient characters — Nine Chapters: Essential Principles. "This is annotated by our Lin ancestors and contains seven solutions not found in any edition circulated in the world outside. The chapters on Excess and Deficit and on Equations are particularly refined. Start with this scroll; once you have mastered it, come to me for the next."

Wanying took the scroll and opened it immediately. The pages had yellowed and the corners had curled, but the characters were still clear. She read the first page and found herself holding her breath —

"The use of counting rods is not merely to record numbers, but to comprehend the changes of Heaven and Earth and perceive the principles of yin and yang. Thus the skilled mathematician, with a single rod, can know ten thousand things..."

These opening words were already engraved in every Lin family descendant's heart, but reading them now, Wanying felt something entirely new. She sensed dimly that what her grandfather wanted to teach her was not mathematics alone, but a way of seeing the world.

In the days that followed, Wanying rose before dawn every morning and studied until deep into the night. She mastered every method in the Nine Chapters: Essential Principles and, under Lin Jingtang's guidance, began studying several of the Lin family's secret mathematical techniques.

The first was the Heaven-Source Equation Method.

An approach to solving high-degree equations that a Lin ancestor had derived from the Zhui Shu, its core principle lay in "setting the heaven-source as variable" — assigning an unknown to a variable, establishing an equation from the problem's conditions, then solving by taking roots or expanding into a power series. It took Wanying three full months to gain even a preliminary command of this technique, during which she could not count how many times she made mistakes. But each time she failed, she would quietly collect her counting rods and begin again — never discouraged.

The second was the Excess-Deficit Method.

This was a method of approaching the true answer step by step through hypothetical approximate values, particularly suited to problems where conditions were incomplete or the relationships between variables were complex. Wanying loved using this method on the "tricky problems" her grandfather set — questions whose conditions seemed contradictory, like a carefully laid trap, where only through repeated adjustments of a hypothesis could the true answer be found. Each time she solved one of these, Wanying felt sweeter than if she had eaten honey.

The third was the Jade Lattice Mental Arithmetic.

This was Lin Jingtang's own signature technique — the ability to complete complex calculations entirely in the mind, without any physical aid. The first time Wanying saw her grandfather demonstrate it, she was struck still: Lin Jingtang closed his eyes, gently rubbing his fingertips together, and in moments had calculated an eight-digit multiplication result without a single error.

"Very few people in the world are able to master the Jade Lattice Mental Arithmetic," Lin Jingtang said. "It requires an exceptional power of concentration and spatial imagination. Wanying, try it; it doesn't matter if you can't — not everyone is able to..."

Before he had finished speaking, Wanying had already closed her eyes. She tried setting the numbers her grandfather had spoken aloud as counting rods in her mind — one, two, three, four; adjust the tens, carry, multiply, distribute — the entire process unfolding like a clear picture spread before her eyes.

"That is... eight thousand seven hundred and twenty-six multiplied by three thousand four hundred and thirteen, which equals..." she opened her eyes slowly, "twenty-nine million, seven hundred and eighty-three thousand, eight hundred and thirty-eight."

Lin Jingtang froze.

He looked at the abacus in his hand, then at his granddaughter's earnest face, and for a long moment could not speak.

"Grandfather? Did I calculate wrong?" Wanying asked carefully.

"No..." Lin Jingtang let out a long breath; behind his eyes, something glimmered. "No, child. You may be... the first person since your great-great-grandfather able to carry on the Jade Lattice Mental Arithmetic in our family."

What Wanying did not know was that the Lin family's great-great-grandfather had once served as a calendrical official in the previous dynasty, praised by the late emperor as "the foremost mathematician under Heaven" for this very technique. That gift had made him countless enemies at court, and he had ultimately been framed by others, dying in depression and bitterness.

But Wanying was still too young to know any of this. She was bright and carefree, and felt only that she had learned a fascinating skill — never suspecting the weight behind it.

As time passed, Wanying's mathematical skill advanced by leaps and bounds, soon surpassing most of the adult men in Lin Town. When she worked through a problem she would enter a peculiar state of focus, as though the whole world had disappeared, leaving only the strings of numbers and symbols before her. When someone asked why she was so devoted to it, she thought a moment and answered in earnest: "Because numbers are not like people — they don't lie."

This made Lady Liu both exasperated and amused, and made Lin Huaiyuan's heart sink just slightly.

Wanying had possessed an intelligence beyond her years since childhood; yet for human complexity, the subtlety of others' motives, she seemed by nature obtuse. Her mathematical mind ran at extraordinary speed, her instinct for numbers almost uncanny — yet when it came to the darkness in human hearts and the intricacy of the world, she remained naive and unknowing.

No one could have guessed that this very gift for mathematics would soon bring her through a trial by fire — or that this very obtuseness toward human nature would prevent her from seeing the catastrophe now approaching.

Chapter Three   The Court's Calculation

Seventh year of Shunde. Spring.

The peach blossoms of the capital opened and fell, yet the power struggles within the court never rested for a day.

Lin Huaiyuan and several colleagues from the Ministry of Revenue were summoned to the capital to deliberate on a plan of fundamental importance to the realm. The matter was complex in origin. From the founding of the Shuntian Dynasty, the court had implemented the Equal Distribution Law in Jiangnan, whereby the government, according to each region's surplus and shortage of goods and the needs of the market, uniformly regulated prices and the flow of trade. The original intent had been to stabilize prices and benefit the people; yet over decades, enforcement of the Equal Distribution Law had grown increasingly brutal — the government compulsorily purchased goods from the people at low prices and sold them at high prices, the difference flowing into the state treasury. The common people suffered bitterly; the great landowners, their interests damaged, had long been voicing grievances. More alarming still, the foundation of the Equal Distribution Law's operation — figures for the quantity, price, and transportation cost of goods in each region — was calculated by the county clerks under the Ministry of Revenue's subordinate prefectures. A great many of those clerks had long since been infiltrated by powerful court factions, and the figures they reported were of uncertain truth.

Now the Emperor wished to reform the Equal Distribution Law, replacing it with the Market Exchange Law — consolidating the power of bulk purchase and sale from the regional prefectures under the central court, to be managed uniformly by a newly established Market Exchange Bureau directly under the court.

This appeared to be a grand plan for the welfare of the realm, but Lin Huaiyuan's keen eye saw the danger in it. However corrupt the Equal Distribution Law might be, local areas still had some room to maneuver; once the Market Exchange Law was enacted, the entire management of goods and resources would rest in the hands of the center, effectively placing the realm's financial power in the hands of a very few. He was also concerned that without the oversight of county officials and senior scholars, those few people could alter grain and treasury figures at will — a dangerous concentration of power.

What troubled Lin Huaiyuan most was that the driving force behind the Market Exchange Law was the Imperial Preceptor Chang Jin and his younger brother, the Minister of War Chang Yanjiao.

These two brothers might speak of enriching the country and strengthening the army, but in truth they sought only to seize control of the realm's financial and military power for themselves.

That day, in the study of the Imperial Preceptor's residence, Chang Jin and Chang Yanjiao sat facing each other. Candlelight wavered, stretching their shadows long across the walls.

Chang Jin wore robes of purple and gold, his long eyebrows reaching his temples, his hair and beard silver-white, his gaze as sharp as a falcon's. He turned a string of bronze counting rods in his hand, a faint, unfathomable smile on his lips.

Chang Yanjiao wore black official robes and a jade belt, his face lean, his eyes narrow and long — like a serpent moving through shadows.

"Elder Brother," Chang Yanjiao said, raising his teacup, his voice low, "that Lin Huaiyuan doesn't seem to understand his position."

Chang Jin did not answer at once. He moved the string of counting rods slowly. They were a set of "Pillar Rods" once gifted to the court by the Lin family years before — exquisite work, each rod engraved with complex mathematical symbols, the family's token of goodwill to the court. Chang Jin stroked the rods gently, as one might stroke a thing about to disappear.

"That bookworm... fancies himself clever." Chang Jin's eyelid twitched once, his voice flat as water. "Someone in the Ministry of Revenue has reported that he has repeatedly submitted memorials impeding the Market Exchange Law's progress, calling it a means to 'abuse public office for private gain' — high-sounding words."

"He has also recently sent men to the capital to correspond privately with several censors who oppose the Market Exchange Law, discussing a joint memorial to the Emperor to block it." Chang Yanjiao gave a cold laugh. "Elder Brother, keeping this man around is asking for trouble."

Chang Jin set the counting rods back on the desk with a clean tap.

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly, his gaze deep. "He still has his uses. He is the foremost mathematician in Jiangnan. When the Equal Distribution Law is abolished and the Market Exchange Law enacted, the entire realm's system of tax, expenditure, and storage calculation must be rebuilt from the ground up — it cannot be done without the Lin family's mathematical support."

Chang Yanjiao frowned. "Elder Brother means..."

"Keep him for now — let him wear a high hat." Chang Jin's lips curved slightly. "Once he has built the new calculation system... then..." He extended his hand and slowly closed it into a fist.

Chang Yanjiao nodded in understanding. The brothers exchanged a glance, and a cold flash of murderous intent passed through both pairs of eyes.

What they did not know was that every word of this exchange had been heard by a shadow agent standing outside the door.

This agent belonged to the Shadow Intelligence Court — a secret organization operating independently of the six ministries, responsible for gathering intelligence on the court and the martial world, answering directly to the Emperor. The Shadow Intelligence Court's agents were spread throughout the court and country; even the Imperial Preceptor's residence was no exception. The agent swiftly recorded what he had heard, encoded it into a sealed dispatch, and sent it through the Shadow Intelligence Court's encrypted channels to a certain location in the capital.

The encryption method was unusual — the Lin family's secret mathematical cipher.

Mathematical encryption had existed in the Shuntian Dynasty for over a century, yet it had always remained in very few hands. Its principle, based on the method of equations from the Nine Chapters, converted the ciphertext into numerical arrays and encoded them through specific mathematical operations, producing a layered system of great complexity. The court's trust in the Shadow Intelligence Court rested in part on the fact that its cipher dispatches were so intricate they were said to be "foolproof."

And the Lin family was one of the designers of this encryption system.

This time, the Shadow Intelligence Court's dispatch was sent to the Shushan Sect.

Shushan was the greatest sect of the righteous path, standing for centuries, its generations of masters unrivaled, maintaining a delicate and balanced relationship with the court. One of the Shushan Thirteen Elders, Zhou Tianhuan — known as the Soaring Firmament Sword — happened to be in the capital on business. He encountered by chance an old acquaintance from the Shadow Intelligence Court, who handed him the dispatch and asked Zhou Tianhuan to judge whether the encryption had any weakness, since Shushan disciples were versed in a hundred schools of learning and were no strangers to mathematics. Zhou Tianhuan read it carefully, his frown deepening line by line —

Imperial Preceptor Chang Jin and Minister of War Chang Yanjiao were scheming a design so vast it chilled the blood: once the Market Exchange Law was enacted, they planned to lay across Jiangnan a system of exploitation spanning seven prefectures and twenty-four counties, called "Equitable Market Exchange" in name but in fact wielding the court's hand to commit the greatest fleecing of all under Heaven.

And the Lin family, as mathematical support for this entire system, was to serve as a pawn — used, then discarded.

Zhou Tianhuan set down the dispatch and said quietly, "Lin Huaiyuan... is in danger."

He wanted to do something, but a dispatch from the Shadow Intelligence Court was not his to act on as a Shushan Elder — he had no right to interfere in court affairs. He could only press this unease down into his heart, to wait for another chance to speak.

He did not know that the chance would come sooner than he imagined — and far more grimly.

Chapter Four   Night of Slaughter

Seventh year of Shunde. Deep winter.

It was the coldest winter Lin Town had ever known. The snow fell without ceasing, the wind cut like a blade, and the entire town was buried under white. After nightfall, all was silence.

Inside the Lin family compound, the lamps burned bright against the warmth within. Lin Jingtang was on the third floor of the Jade Lattice Tower, organizing manuscripts. Lin Huaiyuan and several advisors were deliberating in the study. Lady Liu and a few maidservants were in the kitchen preparing provisions for the new year. Wanying was curled up beside the brazier in the embroidered loft, absorbed in a thick classical text.

It was the Lin family's secret text, the Mathematical Arts of Great Expansion, which recorded the mathematical principles distilled by Lin ancestors across the ages. Its most crucial section described a technique called the Expansion Method — able to detect the subtle numerical relationships concealed within cipher dispatches, and thereby break mathematical encryptions of extreme complexity.

Wanying had been studying for three days. She had finally grasped its essence, and was full of excitement.

Then, from the distance, came the urgent thunder of hooves, splitting the winter night's silence.

Wanying raised her head and listened. The hoofbeats grew denser, iron shoes striking frozen ground with a dull, heavy sound — like rolling thunder gathering in a dark cloud.

"This late — who is it?" She set down the scroll and went to the window, peering through the gap.

A torchlight came riding out of the dark beyond town, growing nearer and brighter. A column of riders, some thirty or more, all in black close-fitting garments, faces wrapped and covered, blades concealed at their waists — their origins impossible to discern.

Unease rose in Wanying's heart. She was turning to go warn her father when the compound gate gave a great boom, kicked open from outside.

"Lin Huaiyuan of the Lin family! Treachery, collusion with rebels, intent to subvert the realm! On the Imperial Preceptor's order — arrest the entire Lin household. Execute them on the spot!"

A cold male voice cut through the snow and wind, carrying a killing intent that brooked no argument.

Then came the sound of blades leaving their scabbards.

Countless black shapes poured into the Lin family compound like a tide, the steel in their hands throwing cold light back into the snow.

Wanying stood rooted to the spot. For a moment she could not comprehend what was happening. She was only a twelve-year-old child; she still thought this must be a misunderstanding, still thought that as long as her father came out and explained, these people would leave...

But from the courtyard, screaming had already begun.

The men in black did not stop for argument. They cut at anyone they found — from the gate to the front hall, from the front hall to the rear courtyard. Blood stained the white snow. Screams rose one after another. The Lin family's maidservants, servants, and advisors fell to the blades one by one.

Wanying snapped out of her stupor and ran for the study.

"Father! Father!" She burst in. Lin Huaiyuan came toward her, his face white as paper, his hands trembling slightly, yet composed.

"Wanying, take this and go." Lin Huaiyuan pressed into her hands a small box of rosewood the size of a palm. Its surface was carved all over with the Lin family's mathematical symbols. "This is the Jade Lattice Box — the accumulated work of generations of our family. It must not fall into the hands of those who would misuse it."

"Father, come with me!" Wanying seized his hand.

"Listen to me," Lin Huaiyuan said, pushing his daughter toward the window. "Go through the hidden gate in the rear courtyard. Don't look back. You are the Lin family's last hope — you must survive."

Before Wanying could say another word, the study door burst open. Several men in black rushed in. A blade flashed, and a gash opened across Lin Huaiyuan's chest. He groaned but still set himself before his daughter, bracing against the door frame, refusing to let the men in black pass.

"Father!" Wanying's cry broke out. Tears blurred her eyes.

"Go — go now —"

The words came out of Lin Huaiyuan with what seemed the last of his strength.

Wanying bit her lip, climbed out the back window, and fell into the snow below. She did not feel the pain in her body. She ran as hard as she could for the rear courtyard's hidden gate. Behind her came the sound of blades clashing, porcelain shattering — and then... her father's final, muffled sound.

She did not look back. She could not look back.

Stumbling through the hidden gate, she plunged into the snow-forest beyond the town. Wind and snow struck her face; between heaven and earth was nothing but confusion. She ran barefoot through the snow, the soles of her feet long since numb with cold, her lips white, her whole body shaking — yet she dared not stop.

The Jade Lattice Box was clasped tight in her arms. The rosewood box was cold, but she kept feeling as though her father's hands were still warm inside it.

She ran for what seemed like forever. The snow eased. Moonlight filtered through the clouds and fell across the snow.

Wanying had no more strength. She collapsed against an old pine tree, curled into herself, shielding the Jade Lattice Box against her chest, shaking without stop. Snowflakes fell on her hair, her shoulders, her face — she did not feel them.

She thought of her grandfather, of her mother, of the familiar maidservants and servants, of the warmth and noise that had filled the Lin family compound in days past — all of it now nothing but blood and snow.

She thought of her father's last words: you are the Lin family's last hope.

Survive. She had to survive.

As if Heaven had heard her prayer, not far away came a soft shuffle of footsteps, and a tall dark shape appeared in the moonlight.

Wanying lifted her head. Tears and snow clouded her sight; she could not make out the person's face. She could only dimly see a wisp of silver-white hair moving in the wind, and a pair of deep, fathomless eyes.

Those eyes held scrutiny, held suspicion — but no killing intent, not for a small girl like her, shaking and covered in snow.

"You are... the Lin family's child?" The voice was low and rough.

Wanying opened her mouth, trying to speak, but her lips were too frozen to make any sound. She could only clutch the Jade Lattice Box in her arms more tightly, her gaze stubborn and sorrowful.

The person was quiet for a moment, then slowly crouched down. Moonlight fell on a square face weathered by wind and hardship, the brow carrying a scholarly air, the gaze as deep as the sea, conveying the weight of immense strength kept in reserve.

Wanying did not know who this was — yet she felt inexplicably, slightly, at ease.

He extended one hand, moving very slowly, as though afraid of startling someone so young. That large hand, marked with old calluses and sword calluses, carried a tremor that was almost imperceptible.

"I am Zhou Tianhuan, one of the Thirteen Elders of Shushan," he said. "Child — I came too late..."

In that moment, Wanying could hold it in no longer. She buried her face in that broad chest and wept aloud.

In the biting wind, the Shushan Elder who was nearing his sixtieth year held this child he had never seen before and let his silver-white robes be soaked through by her tears.

He had always been distant and cold-hearted. Yet looking at this child now, he felt something inside him — long unused — ache faintly.

Chapter Five   A Sword Takes Root

Several days later. Shushan. Sunset Glow Peak.

Zhou Tianhuan's residence was called the Soaring Sky Pavilion, situated on a quiet stretch of cliff face on the eastern side of Sunset Glow Peak: three sides enclosed by mountains, one side open to an abyss, cloud and mist drifting year-round. The Pavilion's furnishings were spare — a stone table, a few wooden chairs, a few shelves of books, and a plain old sword hanging on the wall. Nothing more.

Wanying had been given a side room in the Soaring Sky Pavilion.

Three days she had been in Shushan, but Zhou Tianhuan had told her little. He had simply had someone bring her clean clothes and hot meals. Wanying ate little and spoke less, sitting by the window in a daze all day, the rosewood box always pressed to her chest, like a last talisman.

That night, Wanying tossed and could not sleep. She dared not close her eyes — each time she did, she saw her father falling in a pool of blood.

She simply sat up, put on her outer robe, and went barefoot out the door.

Moonlight like water fell across the flagstones before the Soaring Sky Pavilion. The night wind at the cliff edge was biting — yet it did not make Wanying retreat. She sat down in the courtyard, holding the box, looking up at nothing.

In the moonlight, a figure appeared at the courtyard gate.

Zhou Tianhuan.

He was not wearing his formal Shushan robes, only a grey-white inner garment, his hair loose, a food box in his hand — he looked as though he had just come from the kitchen. Wanying looked at him. He looked at her.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, simply.

Wanying nodded without speaking.

Zhou Tianhuan set the food box on the stone table, opened it; inside was a bowl of steaming red date congee. He slid the bowl in front of Wanying and sat down across from her.

"Eat."

Wanying looked at the congee, then at the old man before her, and at last extended her numb hands to lift the bowl and drink in small sips. The warmth spread from her stomach outward, driving away some of the chill at her heart.

"Elder Zhou," Wanying said, setting down the bowl, looking up with clear, stubborn eyes, "who killed my family?"

Zhou Tianhuan was quiet a moment, then spoke. "Court affairs are more tangled than any Shushan sword formation. All I know is that the order to destroy the Lin family came from the Imperial Preceptor's office."

"The Imperial Preceptor's office?" A cold flash crossed Wanying's eyes. "Why would the Imperial Preceptor kill my whole family?"

Zhou Tianhuan shook his head slightly. "That is for you to ask yourself. What did the Lin family possess that the Chang brothers found so threatening they felt they had no choice but to act?"

Wanying looked down blankly at the Jade Lattice Box in her hands.

"Is it... this?"

Zhou Tianhuan's gaze fell on the rosewood box. Its surface was carved with complex mathematical symbols that at first glance looked merely like decorative patterns, but his eye saw immediately that the symbols were not arranged at random — they formed a complete and hidden calculation system.

"Open it and let me see."

Wanying hesitated a moment, then slowly lifted the lid. Inside lay three sets of counting rods arranged neatly: one set deep rosewood red, one white jade, one jet black. Each rod was engraved with fine markings and symbols far more precise than any ordinary counting rod.

"This was the legacy my father left me," Wanying said quietly. "Father said it was the accumulated work of generations of our family, and must not fall into the wrong hands..."

Zhou Tianhuan picked up one of the white jade rods and turned it in the moonlight, studying it closely.

"This is..." his brow furrowed, "no wonder the Chang family would slaughter an entire household for it."

Wanying raised her eyes, full of questions.

Zhou Tianhuan did not answer at once. He set the rod back in the box and said gravely, "Child — did the Lin family, when taking part in drafting the Market Exchange Law, advise the Emperor that more checks and balances were needed?"

Wanying blinked and shook her head. "I don't know... Father never spoke to me about court matters."

Zhou Tianhuan sighed. "Never mind. You are still too young — too much is not suitable for you to know yet. But one thing you must understand: the Lin family suffered this catastrophe not because your father did anything wrong, but because you had stepped into a game too large even for me to lightly enter. The Chang brothers wanted to control the world — and for that, they first had to control mathematics. Your family stood in their way."

Wanying was silent. Young as she was, she was not naive. She understood dimly: it was not that her father had committed a crime. It was that her father had known too much.

A long silence. Then Wanying's gaze drifted slowly to the sword hanging on the wall beside the stone table.

Moonlight lay on the scabbard, throwing a cold silver glow. The sword was not ornate; the scabbard was plain and unadorned, yet it conveyed a weight that pressed on the senses.

"Elder Zhou," Wanying said suddenly, her voice lower than before, "I want to learn the sword."

Zhou Tianhuan looked up at her in mild surprise.

Wanying stood, went to the sword, and extended a slight hand to touch the scabbard. Her hand was still trembling — not from cold, but from something burning inside her.

"Tonight, lying in bed, I kept thinking about one thing," she said, her voice light yet strangely steady. "If I had also known martial arts, if I had also held a sword like this one — when those men in black burst into the study that night, could I have stood in front of my father instead of only running away?"

Zhou Tianhuan did not answer at once.

Wanying turned. Moonlight fell across her thin face; in those eyes the daytime stubbornness was gone, replaced by something like burning resolve.

"Mathematics can let me see through accounts and break ciphers, but it cannot protect the people I want to protect." Her voice trembled faintly, yet each word was clear. "If I want to take revenge, I must first stay alive. To stay alive, I need strength. I will not wait for a next time — never again watch the people around me die while I stand useless."

Zhou Tianhuan regarded this twelve-year-old girl for a long time without speaking.

He had seen countless young people enter Shushan — some for fame, some for gain, some seeking immortality, some wishing only to learn a skill. But the child before him had blood-deep vengeance burning in her eyes, and yet it was not only revenge — she wanted to protect, to keep, to have the strength to stop loss. He had never seen a child quite like her.

"The sword..." Zhou Tianhuan said slowly, "is bitter work. Far more bitter than mathematics. Mathematics can be recalculated when it goes wrong; sword technique gone wrong wounds your own life."

"I am not afraid of hardship." Wanying met his gaze.

"The sword art I practice descends from the Shushan orthodox tradition — swift to prevail, pressing with force, one strike launched and never taken back." Zhou Tianhuan rose and went to the wall, lifted down the sword. "This sword has followed me for forty years. It has killed people and saved them. The sword itself holds no virtue or vice — virtue and vice live in the heart of whoever holds it."

He held the sword out horizontally before Wanying.

"If you wish to learn the sword, I will teach you. But I have one condition."

"What condition?"

"Do not let hatred blind your eyes." Zhou Tianhuan's gaze hardened. "The sword is for protecting, not for slaughter. If after learning the sword you become nothing but a person consumed by vengeance, I will abolish your martial arts with my own hands."

Wanying was quiet a moment. Then she knelt slowly, and bowed her head to the ground three times, deeply and formally.

"Student Lin Wanying pays respects to her teacher. Your student swears — I will learn the sword only to protect, never to kill without cause. If I break this oath, let Heaven and Earth strike me down."

Zhou Tianhuan looked at the girl kneeling in the moonlight, his heart full of things difficult to name. He reached down and raised her up, then placed the sword hilt in her hands.

"From tomorrow, you will train with me for one hour each morning. The rest of your time, continue your mathematical studies. The way of the sword and the way of mathematics — one hard, one soft; one in motion, one in stillness. Training both together may let you forge a path unlike any other."

Wanying took the hilt and felt the cold weight of it pass through her palm. She held the sword in her arms as she held the Jade Lattice Box — tightly, unwilling to let go.

That night she did not lie awake again.

Chapter Six   Forging Heart and Blade

From that day, Wanying took up residence in the Soaring Sky Pavilion and began her life at Shushan.

Every morning, before the sky had brightened and before the rooster had crowed, she would be roused by Zhou Tianhuan and taken to train at the edge of the cliff on Sunset Glow Peak.

"Shushan Sword Art, first form — the Cloud-Parting Form. Move light as you draw, let intent precede the blade; strike fast, and withdraw steady."

Zhou Tianhuan stood in the morning mist, his wooden sword sweeping once — a flash of silver, sword qi parting the air, slicing a falling leaf at ten paces cleanly in two. Wanying stared, eyes full of longing.

When her own turn came, she could barely hold the sword. The wooden blade slipped from her grip and flew out, nearly striking her own foot.

"Hold the sword steady, but do not grip it rigid," came Zhou Tianhuan's voice from behind her. "The sword is an extension of your arm — not a lump of iron you're clutching."

Wanying gritted her teeth and practiced. Again and again. From grip to swing, from stance to stepping, from hacking to thrusting — every movement repeated hundreds of times. Her hands raised blisters; the blisters broke and formed calluses; the calluses broke again, over and over. Her shoulders ached so much she could barely raise them; her legs shook until she could barely stand. Yet she never cried out once in pain.

In the remaining hours of daylight, Wanying studied mathematics in the book hall. Shushan's library was immensely rich; though mathematics was not its strength, the generations of Shushan disciples who had understood mathematics were numerous, and the texts and manuscripts they had left behind were astonishing in volume. Wanying read with the hunger of the starving, writing down anything she did not understand and waiting until evening, when Zhou Tianhuan returned, to ask him.

Zhou Tianhuan, though he claimed that "Shushan does not teach mathematics," possessed a command of the subject far beyond any ordinary Shushan disciple. In his youth this Elder had traveled widely and met celebrated scholars from the Scholar Academy and the Imperial Astronomical Bureau; though mathematics was not the field that made his name, the Nine Chapters, the Zhui Shu, and the Ji Gu Classic were all thoroughly familiar to him.

Often Wanying would labor over a problem for days without an answer, and Zhou Tianhuan needed only a glance to identify the knot.

"You have applied the Excess-Deficit Method in the wrong direction on this problem," he said, indicating a sequence on the paper. "The key to the Excess-Deficit Method is in the hypothesis. The hypothesis is the first step toward the truth; if the direction of the hypothesis is wrong, every step of working that follows is wasted."

Wanying blinked — and the answer lit up before her.

She discarded every prior hypothesis, approached from an entirely different angle, and solved the problem correctly in less than half an hour.

"Teacher," Wanying said, looking up, "you clearly understand mathematics. Why did you say you didn't?"

Zhou Tianhuan gave a faint smile. "When did I say I didn't? I said Shushan does not teach mathematics. The teacher here is you, not me. I am merely helping you when you are stuck."

Wanying laughed too — the first real smile she had shown since coming to Shushan.

Time passed. Springs and autumns turned.

Wanying's sword art moved from raw to practiced, from practiced to refined. Two years on, she could execute the first five forms of the Shushan Sword Art with confidence; four years on, she began to challenge the higher-tier techniques; five years on, her sword art was no longer behind that of Shushan disciples of the same generation.

In mathematics her progress was still more striking. She had not only fully absorbed the Nine Chapters but had studied the Zhui Shu, the Ji Gu Classic, and dozens of mathematical texts held in Shushan, leaving almost none unmastered. More remarkably, she had refined the Lin family's Jade Lattice Mental Arithmetic to a point of consummate skill — able within the span of one cup of tea to complete calculations of extraordinary complexity at a speed and precision that astonished even Zhou Tianhuan.

One day, Zhou Tianhuan took several pages of a tattered scroll from a hidden shelf and spread them on the table.

"Wanying, this is a scroll I obtained years ago from a great predecessor — it records a mathematical technique long lost to the world: the Great Expansion Method."

Wanying leaned over to look. The scroll was written in archaic seal script: "The Great Expansion Method: from the remainders of each portion it finds the whole of all portions. Great enough for the movements of Heaven, small enough for the count of things — all may be governed by it."

"The Great Expansion Method... what is it?" Wanying asked, curious.

Zhou Tianhuan explained in detail. The Great Expansion Method had been created by a great mathematical genius of a previous dynasty, and it solved problems of "congruences" — finding a number that, when divided by certain numbers, leaves specified remainders. From calendar calculation to civil engineering, from encryption to breaking ciphers, the Great Expansion Method could govern all.

Wanying was transfixed.

"This method has a great deal in common with your Lin family's Expansion Method," Zhou Tianhuan said. "If you can bring the two together and master them both, there will be few who can surpass you in the mathematics of the present age."

Wanying took the scrolls back to her room and did not emerge for ten full days and nights. She studied and calculated again and again, until every step of the Great Expansion Method was carved into her memory.

Ten days later, she walked out and told Zhou Tianhuan: "I understand it now."

Zhou Tianhuan looked at her hollow eyes and the bright light still burning in them, and felt at once pride and a pang of pain.

Wanying was eighteen that year. Her sword art had reached the middle tiers of Shushan. Her mathematics was peerless among her generation.

But she knew it was not yet enough. Her enemies stood at the summit of the court, holding power over the realm. She still needed greater strength, more evidence, a better moment.

The days went on.

One morning, Zhou Tianhuan called Wanying to the main hall of the Soaring Sky Pavilion. A pot of tea and two cups had been set out on the table.

"Teacher, you sent for me?" Wanying stood there in a pale blue martial robe, sword at her waist, hair gathered high, the youthfulness gone from her brow and replaced by a steadiness edged with something sharp.

Zhou Tianhuan studied her, and in his gaze was both gratification and a shadow of something else.

"How old are you this year?"

"Twenty," Wanying answered.

"Twenty..." Zhou Tianhuan repeated softly. "You have been at Shushan eight years."

Zhou Tianhuan said slowly: "Your sword art stands in the upper-middle tier among your Shushan peers. Your mathematics surpasses all of the same generation. The knowledge I have to give you has been mostly given. What remains you must perceive yourself and learn in the practice of the real world."

Wanying heard the intent in her teacher's words, and her heart tightened.

"Teacher..."

Zhou Tianhuan lifted his teacup and took a slow sip, his gaze turning to the mountains stretching beyond the window. "There is now an opportunity. I can send you down the mountain to carry out a mission. As for the blood debt of your Lin family, the many questions within your heart — there may be a chance to investigate."

Wanying lifted her eyes, a bright flash crossing them. "What mission?"

Zhou Tianhuan set down the teacup, his expression growing grave.

"The court has issued a Heavenly Law Decree. The Shushan Sect is required to execute the Heavenly Law and execute the Qingzhou County Magistrate, who is suspected of collusion with Japanese pirates — Chen Hui."

"Chen Hui?" Wanying frowned.

Zhou Tianhuan drew from his sleeve a sealed letter. "This is intelligence I have recently received regarding Qingzhou. The Qingzhou affair may have bearing on what happened to your Lin family. When you go down the mountain and reach Qingzhou, you may use the intelligence here to investigate."

"Qingzhou?" Wanying took the letter, broke the seal, and a dense mass of coded characters met her eyes — the Shadow Intelligence Court's cipher, encrypted in exactly the manner she had studied years ago in the Jade Lattice Tower.

"This is..." She scrutinized it carefully, her fingertips tracing invisible counting rods on the table, and in moments her pupils contracted sharply.

The dispatch was not long, but its contents were immense. Minister of War Chang Yanjiao was secretly cultivating private troops in Qingzhou, using "bandit suppression" as cover to expand his military force. The funds supporting all of this came from the pillage of the people's wealth by the Market Exchange Law that the Chang brothers had pushed through years before.

Most critically, the dispatch's conclusion detailed Chen Hui's situation. The man was the Qingzhou County Magistrate — since taking office, diligent and caring for the people, known to have personally overseen disaster relief and porridge distribution to the poor on a snowy night, and skilled in mathematics, wearing at his sleeve a River Chart Pearl from the Scholar Academy. Yet powerful court figures had leveled charges against him of "collusion with Japanese pirates, selling out the realm," hoping to remove him through the court's own hand. Though Chen Hui still held his post in Qingzhou, he was surrounded on all sides. Memorials impeaching him arrived at court one after another; Chang Yanjiao had secretly dispatched Japanese rōnin to infiltrate Qingzhou, manufacturing chaos on one hand and fabricating so-called "evidence of treason" on the other, waiting only for the right moment to have him imprisoned and condemned.

Reading this far, Wanying's fingertips trembled slightly.

Chen Hui — a name she had never heard. But what the dispatch described stirred a strange resonance in her: an official skilled in mathematics, targeted and framed because he stood in someone's way — exactly like the Lin family of years past.

"Teacher," Wanying looked up, "is Chen Hui... truly colluding with Japanese pirates?"

Zhou Tianhuan was quiet for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I do not know. The intelligence says he is — yet his record in office is one of genuine care for his people. You go to Qingzhou; your task is to execute the Heavenly Law. But how to execute it, and whether to execute it, I leave to your own judgment."

Wanying folded the dispatch and put it in her robe.

"Your student understands. I will set out for Qingzhou at once."

Zhou Tianhuan nodded, and said nothing more. He knew this disciple had grown up; she had her own judgment, and needed him to direct her no further.

"Go." Zhou Tianhuan stood and went to the doorway, his back to Wanying. "Remember what I said all those years ago — the sword is for protecting, not for slaughter."

"Your student will remember." Wanying bowed formally, then stood, stowed the dispatch, gathered the Jade Lattice Box and her sword, and turned and walked out of the Soaring Sky Pavilion.

The morning mist drifted. She walked down Sunset Glow Peak one step at a time along the Soaring Cloud Plank Road, not once looking back.

As she passed through the Shushan gate, the dawn light broke through the clouds and fell upon her.

Lin Wanying stood outside the gate, looked once back at the Shushan sea of clouds, then turned and walked with long strides into the vast world of rivers and lakes.

Chapter Seven   No Date for Return

Shushan. Sunset Glow Peak.

Zhou Tianhuan stood alone at the cliff edge, hands clasped behind his back, looking toward the direction in which Wanying had departed. The morning wind stirred his silver-white hair; the sword at his waist hummed faintly, as though answering its master's thoughts.

On that night of snow, he had found in the snow-forest outside Lin Town a small girl soaked in blood, clutching a wooden box. Twelve years old, her gaze stubborn as a young wolf's, lips purple with cold — yet she would not release the rosewood box in her arms.

He had never intended to take a disciple. Zhou Tianhuan had always gone alone. He took no students, founded no school, had even been pushed into the position of Shushan Elder by the insistence of his fellow disciples. But that night, when the child wept into his arms, he had suddenly felt — he could not leave her behind.

He had raised her, taught her mathematics, taught her swordsmanship, and watched her grow from a slight, frail girl into a Shushan disciple of peerless sword and unequaled calculation. She had never once mentioned letting go of vengeance. He had never once advised her to lay it down. Because he knew: some things cannot be set down. And ought not to be.

Only...

Zhou Tianhuan let out a quiet breath.

"This child — too much like I was, when I was young."

He murmured it to himself, the words scattered by the mountain wind.

On the hilt of the sword at his side, two characters were carved — the ones he had engraved himself in his youth: "Soaring Sky." Zhou Tianhuan, one of the Shushan Thirteen Elders, had gone through life unattached — until he found a small girl clutching a wooden box in the snow, and began to worry whether she had eaten, whether she had trained, whether she might be hurt.

He turned and walked back into the Soaring Sky Pavilion. On the stone table sat a bowl of red date congee, long grown cold — he had cooked it for Wanying that morning, but she had left in haste and not drunk a drop of it.

Zhou Tianhuan lifted the bowl, studied it a moment, and set it gently to one side.

"When you come back, I'll cook it again."

He said it softly, as if for his disciple who had gone far away, or as if for himself.

The mountain wind was silent.

In the distance, the bell of Shushan rang out and spread in long waves through the peaks.

And what he did not know was this: at that very moment in Qingzhou, snow was falling thick and heavy. Lin Wanying had already arrived in Qingzhou City, concealed in the shadows, watching a blue-robed official dispensing aid to the people in the snow and cold.

She saw Chen Hui standing before the grain storehouse, his deep blue official robe mud-hemmed at the bottom, his posture still straight as a pine. She saw the jade-green counting beads at his sleeve brush his hand with each gesture, making a soft, faint sound. She heard him give orders in a low, steady voice: "The old and weak line up for congee; able-bodied men earn one biscuit for every three baskets of snow cleared."

In that instant, the words of the dispatch in her memory and the figure of the man before her eyes became one.

The Shushan Heavenly Law Decree that her teacher had entrusted her with commanded the execution of Chen Hui, who had "colluded with foreign enemies." But would a man who had betrayed the realm stand until dawn in the snow and cold, only so the people could drink one bowl of hot porridge?

Lin Wanying pressed her hand to the Jade Lattice Box at her sleeve, her phoenix eyes deep, and looked in the direction of the distant Shushan mountains with a gaze full of things difficult to name.

— Teacher, is it possible that the Heavenly Law Decree is wrong —
just as what happened to my Lin family was wrong?
What is the truth?

She did not know the answer. But she knew she would stay in Qingzhou, stay at this man's side, until she found the truth.

And this — was the beginning of another story.

(End)