Chapter 8

Rice was brought back, noodles were brought back, tofu, pickled vegetables, and all kinds of braised or smoked meats were brought back, filling the small kitchen to the brim. Bai Shi and Tu Bo Xiao Fu's faces grew more and more tense each day, but only Xiao Yun continued to play and laugh carelessly.

Guan Zhuofan, however, had been busy dealing with those pieces of wood, sawing, planing, and painting. After two days of hard work, he finally managed to make a simple and strange object.

"What did the third young master make?" Bai Shi, not recognizing it, secretly asked Tu Bo. Tu Bo shook his head; he had lived for several decades and had never seen such a thing before.

On the third day, Guan Zhuofan called Tu Bo, and the two of them hung the object on the wall opposite the main gate of the small courtyard.

It was a white cross.

Bai Shi finally couldn't hold back her curiosity. She looked at the cross and timidly asked, "Zhuofan, what is this for?"

Guan Zhuofan sighed, "To ward off evil spirits."

On the 29th of August, from early morning, Guan Zhuofan's mood began to worsen. He locked himself in his room, lying on the kang bed with a blanket over his head. However, this self-deception could not isolate him from the outside world. When the sound of the Anglo-French allied forces' artillery fire rang out, he still heard it clearly.

The French attacked the north of the city, the British attacked the south, and Senggelinqin fought a small battle at Desheng Gate, but it was already too late to change the outcome. My capital was destined to fall into the hands of foreign soldiers that afternoon. And five days later...

Five days later, they would set fire to the garden.

The Summer Palace.

*

*

For the entire day, Guan Zhuofan felt restless. At lunchtime, Bai Shi called him softly from outside the door twice, but he pretended not to hear. By evening, the gunfire had subsided, and only the occasional shot could be heard. His mood calmed down a bit, and he came out of his room to have dinner with everyone.

"I'll teach you a gesture," he demonstrated the sign of the cross, touching his forehead, chest, left shoulder, and right shoulder, "It might help if you encounter foreign soldiers."

Everyone followed him earnestly, their movements serious and comical.

He looked at Bai Shi. She had changed into a coarse cloth dress and smeared ashes on her face—on her forehead, left cheek, and right cheek, each spot was round and evenly applied—Sister, are you putting on rouge?

Heaven, make these devils leave quickly—his restless mood from the day returned. He went back to his room, lay on the bed, and let his thoughts wander.

It was already dark. Not long after, he suddenly heard a knocking sound from the neighboring courtyard, followed by the cries of adults and the wails of children, mixed with incomprehensible shouts.

He sat up, his heart tightening: the British devils have come to loot. After a while, he heard a thud, as if something heavy had landed in the courtyard. He strained his ears but heard nothing more. Just as he was about to relax, he heard a woman's low cry from the opposite side, followed by a muffled sound as if her mouth was covered, and the sound abruptly stopped.

Bai Shi!

Guan Zhuofan felt his blood rush to his head. He drew his saber and rushed out of the room, running to Bai Shi's door in the east wing and kicking it open. In the dim candlelight, he saw a red-shirted, white-trousered British soldier forcing Bai Shi into the corner of the kang bed, one hand covering her mouth and the other trying to tear her clothes. Seeing someone burst in, the British soldier jumped up in a panic, reaching for the rifle with a bayonet that was leaning against the kang bed.

He had a large beard and a thick white cloth wrapped around his head.

Damn you, Indian! Guan Zhuofan swung his saber. Just as the Indian soldier grabbed the rifle, the sharp saber severed his right hand at the wrist. With a clatter, the rifle and the dark hand fell to the ground. The Indian soldier let out a scream and fell backward.

I'll see this through to the end! Guan Zhuofan pounced, straddling the Indian soldier, and reversed the saber, thrusting it downward into the Indian soldier's chest, growling fiercely, "F**k!"

The Indian soldier tried to block Guan Zhuofan's right hand with his left, his eyes darting, confused as to why he would hear this familiar "national curse" here. He pleaded in broken English, "No f**k, no f**k..."

"F**k!" Guan Zhuofan increased the pressure.

"No f**k, no f**k..."

"Thud!" A pair of scissors stabbed into the Indian soldier's neck. His left hand went limp, and the saber pierced his chest, piercing his heart. He didn't even groan, his body stiffened, and he died.

Guan Zhuofan caught his breath and turned around in surprise. He saw Bai Shi holding the blood-dripping scissors, her chest heaving, trembling as she looked at the dead Indian soldier.

I knew this sister-in-law had some skills, and I wasn't wrong—Guan Zhuofan guessed that the scissors in Bai Shi's hand must have been kept under her pillow for emergencies. He stood up and said softly, "Sister-in-law, it's over." He carefully took her hand, took the scissors from her, and threw them on the ground. Only then did he dare to gently support her shoulders. Bai Shi's body trembled even more and suddenly collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

Although her clothes were still intact, and she seemed to have suffered no harm, he was afraid she might be too upset. Guan Zhuofan quickly hugged her tightly, patting her back and speaking gently, "It's over, you didn't suffer any harm. Sister-in-law, don't think too much."

Bai Shi sniffled, "He held me too tightly, I couldn't free my hands..." Guan Zhuofan felt a bit uneasy, thinking: holding too tightly, is she talking about me? He loosened his grip on her.

"I couldn't free my hands to use the spell you taught me..." Bai Shi felt both frustrated and wronged and cried again.

What spell? Guan Zhuofan was confused, but then he realized she meant the gesture of making the sign of the cross. He found it amusing but saw that the maid Xiao Fu was holding Xiao Yun, standing at the door, wide-eyed with fear, and Tu Bo, hearing the commotion, had rushed over with a lantern from the front yard.

Bai Shi had subconsciously collapsed into Guan Zhuofan's arms out of shock. Now, seeing Tu Bo, Xiao Fu, and her sister, she suddenly realized what it looked like to be hugging her brother-in-law. She blushed deeply, pushed Guan Zhuofan away, and struggled out of his embrace.

It wasn't my initiative... Guan Zhuofan felt he was being framed. Seeing that Bai Shi didn't seem likely to harm herself, he sighed in relief and decided to bear the blame. He made a gesture for Xiao Fu to take Xiao Yun back to her room, then called Tu Bo over and whispered a few instructions. He then picked up his saber, took the lantern from Tu Bo, and walked into the courtyard.

He wasn't surprised to find Indian soldiers among the British forces; there were a significant number of Indians in both the Opium Wars and the Eight-Nation Alliance. What was strange was how this dead Indian had gotten in. He walked to the wall and examined it, quickly understanding that the Indian had been looting with his companions in the neighboring courtyard and, on a whim, had climbed over the wall, probably to take the loot for himself. The thud he had heard earlier must have been the sound of him jumping down from the wall.

At that moment, a few muffled shouts came from the neighboring courtyard. He knew it was the dead Indian's companions looking for him. He pressed himself against the wall and listened carefully. There were two of them. The two Indian soldiers, not finding anyone, muttered to each other and hurried out the door, running toward the alley entrance.

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