"Sing praises of Yan, be prisoner of Chu…"
Tao couldn't continue writing. He couldn't remember the next two sentences of the poem.
"I am smiling towards the sky with sword, how can I save my liver and gallbladder? "
No, that is a four-character poem, this is a eight-character poem, cannot be a poem no matter what.
Tao beat his head in annoyance. He felt that his brain must have been damaged during the interrogation. If not for this reason, how could he not remember the poetry of his predecessor in prison?
The two lines of poetry written on the mud wall gradually faded away. Tao hurriedly dipped his brush in water and rewrote.
Originally, he intended to bite his finger and use blood as ink, but as he brought his hand to his mouth, fear overtook him. He wasn't like Yan, courageous enough for extreme measures. That lad had the courage to sacrifice, but Tao always believed in clinging to life rather than embracing death.
They were cousins, inseparable since childhood, and later comrades in the revolution. However, Tao never expected Yan's revolutionary path to abruptly halt at the age of thirty-two.
Tao stared at the uneven mud wall, lost in thought. He felt the patterns formed by the indentations resembled Yan's silhouette—decisive and resolute.
That night, Yan left with that silhouette, but after a few steps, he turned back and earnestly entrusted Tao with the care of Jun.
Tao replied vaguely, not daring to meet Yan's gaze.
He knew that if he looked up, he would encounter Yan's fervent eyes. Those eyes angered him, irritated by his younger brother's romantic attachment.
But at that moment, Tao couldn't afford to be angry. The assassination of Duke Gong was an extremely perilous mission. Success or failure rested solely on Yan's shoulders. Tao couldn't let any emotional disturbance affect Yan.
"Jun, Jun, always like that little chick, but once the revolution succeeds, who wouldn't have their pick of women? You can have anyone." Tao finally spoke out these thoughts from his heart.
With two inexplicable and eerie laughs, Tao was startled, sending shivers down his spine.
He hastily looked around the solitary cell, finding nothing but scurrying cockroaches and mice. It couldn't have been them laughing just now. Peering through the bars, he noticed the guard dozing off. Could it be the guard laughing in his sleep while counting money?
Tao composed himself, dismissing the oddity. Instead, he focused on those two lines of poetry. In case he was to face execution the next day, having the complete prison poem on the wall might ensure his name in history.
The freshly written characters were drying fast. This time, Tao, wiser, took a piece of tile and started carving the characters into the mud wall.
Upon finishing the last character "Chu" , unsurprisingly, Tao got stuck again. It seemed he couldn't recall the following two lines of the poem forever.
Tao, in a moment of frustration, was about to throw the tile when his hand was grabbed, not by his own but by another's. It was a hand with a hint of warmth, rough and calloused at the base of the fingers.
Inside, Tao was cursing, but he didn't dare utter a word. He let the person guide his hand as if instructing a child learning to write, directing the strokes on the tile.
"Draw the sword swiftly, youth never disappoints."
After writing these two lines, the person breathed out heavily, seemingly more anxious than Tao to complete this poem.
Tao couldn't help but react this time.
Abruptly turning around, intending to face the individual, he found the cell empty, devoid of any other person.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Tao demanded sternly.
The person didn't appear, but his shouting woke up the guard outside. The guard sluggishly made his way over, tapping his baton against the iron bars.
"Tao, for heaven's sake, calm down. You've got only a few days left. Think about what you want to tell your family."
Tao suddenly felt deflated; indeed, he had only a few days left. What did it matter who was human or not, Yan or Jun?
After the guard left, Tao collapsed onto the straw mat, surrounded by waves of fear.
"Hi, bro, what's happening to you? How did you end up in here?"
The words were like a clear, untainted stream in the wilderness. Tao found them both vivid and ethereal. He had a good guess about who was speaking, but he found it hard to believe.
"Who are you? Show yourself." This time, Tao lowered his voice.
"Do I need to answer that? I can't come out; it would cause trouble for you."
"Yan?" Tao waited for three, maybe two seconds.
The person didn't object.
Tao's scalp tingled, and every hair on his body stood on end involuntarily.
"Are you human or a ghost?"
As soon as Tao voiced this question, he felt it was unnecessary. During his escape, he had bought several newspapers, each front page depicting Yan's body sprawled on the street, with headlines bearing a similar message: "Failed Assassination of Duke Gong; Assassin Killed on the Spot."
"Yan, we've had no grudge in the past or present. Please don't harm me," Tao urgently clarified his stance.
"What are you saying? We're brothers," Yan sighed.
This failed to reassure Tao. Instead, he curled up, apprehensively guarding against the unseen presence of his brother.
"Bro, how should I explain this to you..." Yan began.
"Just say whatever you need to say," Tao hastily interjected, hoping for Yan to finish and leave, to wake him from this nightmare.
"I'm neither a ghost nor a soul, but in your understanding, I might very well be a ghostly apparition because, indeed, I'm dead. But I'm not here for conjuring tricks or haunting. Yes, I do possess certain abilities beyond an average person's, but I'm not a ghost. The idea of ghosts is feudal superstition. Let me put it this way: I come from another world, a world parallel to yours."
As Yan spoke of parallel worlds, Tao felt as if he were falling through the clouds, staring blankly towards the direction of the voice.
"Should I explain what a parallel world is to you? How can I put it…"
"Stop. What's your purpose for being here?" Tao regained his senses, simplifying the question.
The hay rustled, followed by an indentation forming on the mat. Tao guessed Yan had settled beside him. Instinctively, he shifted away.
"Bro, why are you here? Didn't I tell you…" Yan's voice was kind and gentle, hinting at an imminent heart-to-heart.
"It's all because of you," Tao erupted. Having grown up with Yan, he knew his cousin's nature well. Once he felt guilty, he would give his all.
"Because of me?" Yan pondered, "Could it be that the Qing government knows you were my comrade, and even after my death, they won't let go, aiming for collective punishment?"
"That's the gist of it, Yan. Please, get me out of here. I can't stand this place for a moment longer. Look at how the bedbugs have bitten me; I'm a mess."
Tao rolled up his sleeves, displaying his bite marks to the air. Yan didn't express much, but Tao assumed Yan felt remorse, and he seized the opportunity.
"Are you planning to pass through walls or use some sort of magic? I don't care if you're a ghost or part of a flat or round world, just get me out."
"This is a prison of the Beiyang Government…"
While Yan's words might seem nonsensical to others, Tao understood perfectly. No wonder Tao's father, Yan's uncle, always praised him for his intelligence and physical prowess. This lad was not easy to deceive.
"What do you mean by that?" Tao bluffed. "Are you implying that my imprisonment isn't your doing, but I'm in for something else?"
No one answered, and the silence felt tangible.
"Then tell me, what did I do? What could I possibly do—murder, arson, or something else?"
"You've never been fond of Jun…"
It seemed Yan was using some clever rhetoric, speaking in veiled terms. Tao understood the implication, but he couldn't lose his temper at the moment.
"So, you're implying I killed your beloved woman, committed a crime, and that's why I'm in this Beiyang Government's prison?"
Once again, there was no response, but Tao felt two piercing glares directed at him.
"You fool! Yan, it seems like you weren't killed by random gunfire, but your brain was waterlogged and drowned. Yes, I may not like that girl from a shabby Manchu family, but I wouldn't kill her. It's not worth it."
"Are you saying Jun isn't dead, she's alive?" Yan calmly inquired, devoid of any surprise.
Tao was taken aback by the question. He knew whether he had killed Jun, but he couldn't be sure if she was still alive.
Tao observed the hand that emerged from behind the curtain too keenly. It reached for the jug on the table, tinkered with it, then carefully placed it back in its original position.
Tao was utterly shocked. In just half a minute, he had no idea what had happened to the jug. Was it tampered with or was the alcohol inside discreetly sipped?
He inclined towards tampering. Both he and Yan had received assassin training. Trusting that something was altered was a vital survival principle for an assassin.
Closing his eyes, Tao recalled the hand. It appeared unremarkable, but in the current chaotic circumstances, it couldn't be ordinary. It probably belonged to one of the Southern Revolutionary Party, the Beiyang Government, the Qing Dynasty, or even the Japanese.
At this thought, Tao turned and ran. While running, he cursed Yan, feeling it wasn't about entrusting a task, but trapping him in a dire situation. The jug, Romeo and Juliet would drink before their death, was crystal clear. The person tampering with it had either Tao or Jun as their target.
"Bro, no matter what happened to Jun later, you'll tell me, please. You were the last person to see her. You must know what happened to her."
Of course, Tao couldn't tell Yan that he fled at the crucial moment. He had run out from Changyin Pavilion's backstage, dashed all the way to the Third Northern Palace , squatted in a dilapidated room for several hours, and finally escaped following a eunuch stealing things from a dog hole.
"Jun isn't dead…"
This was Tao's answer after quickly navigating through several thoughts. One, to cover up his cowardly act, and two, since Yan asked, it meant he and Jun hadn't met in the afterlife. The Chinese say that in heaven, they'd be a pair of birds; on earth, a connected branch. People who love each other are inseparable even in life and death. Since they weren't together, it meant they were separated between life and death.
"Really?"
Strangely, from Yan's query, Tao detected a hint of helplessness.
"Really," Tao took another gamble, "She should still be in the palace. Those leeches, once they leave the Forbidden City, they're as good as dead."
Yan fell silent for a moment, then finally spoke, "I have to go."
Tao startled, instinctively reached out and grabbed Yan's arm, stiff like an iron rod.
"You're not going to help me get out?" Tao was both angry and anxious.
"I have to find her, bro, you don't know what I've been through after I died. I met a girl who claimed to be Jun, but I saw Jun in the palace, not as vivid, and I…"
"Yan, you're dead. Why are you still so into romance when you should prioritize friendship? Aren't you afraid people will call you a lecherous ghost?"
"Not afraid. Besides, Jun isn't a seductress; she's my destiny."
Yan disregarded Tao's mockery entirely.
"My destiny? Yan, think about it. Since you met this girl, how much trouble have you faced? My father used to say, sooner or later, she'll be the death of you. Well, isn't that what happened? She did cause your death."
"She didn't cause it. I brought trouble upon her."
Yan finished speaking and pulled his arm. He used some kind of inner strength, a slight movement that dismantled Tao's restraint.
"Also, I can't take you out. If you disappear out of thin air, the Beiyang Government will vigorously investigate. It could set off a chain reaction, and who knows if the Black Rob Club might be completely wiped out."
"So, I should rot in this dump and wait for death?"
"Since joining the Club, my uncle, your father has always said that for driving out the invaders and restoring China, we must always be prepared to sacrifice."
"My father's a lunatic. You believe his words, are you going mad too?" Tao loudly questioned Yan.
"I think you're the one going mad, making a racket in the dead of night, not sleeping. What's your problem?"
Tao recognized it wasn't Yan's voice. He turned towards the sound, finding an enraged guard standing outside the bars.
"Tao, I'm disregarding your nonsense! Looks like you're asking for trouble!"
The guard flaunted his authority by knocking the bars with his baton, but he soon realized Tao barely glanced at him before turning away.
"No, you can't leave!"
The guard was perplexed. He watched as his detainee made a swift, evasive movement, swiftly disengaging from his hold and causing him to tumble onto the mat, as though someone had escaped his grasp and flipped him over.
Tao quickly got up from the mat and dashed towards the west side's mud wall.
The guard pondered, wondering if this was some attempt at wall-walking martial arts. Then, he saw Tao clutching his nose, his face contorted in pain.
"You can leave if you want. But you two won't have a good outcome. You're like crabs in the river, persimmons in the trees—anyone who mixes both will be poisoned to death."
Tao ranted at the mud wall, foaming at the mouth.
The guard decided he'd report this to the authorities first thing in the morning. Keeping a lunatic in a prison was undoubtedly a risky affair.