If I, a death row inmate, am not to become a demon, am I to become a member of the Imperial Guard?

In Beijing in autumn, the sky is high and the clouds are light.

Zhou Yang stood on the street corner, watching people come and go.

He changed into a brand-new flying fish robe. The satin fabric, embroidered with gold cloud patterns, shimmered in the sunlight. This attire felt heavy on him. Not just in weight, but for something else entirely.

The embroidered spring knife at his waist was newly acquired. The scabbard was made of black sharkskin, and it felt solid in his hand. This knife was far superior to the one he had in Anyang County.

But Zhou Yang still felt awkward.

It's like wearing someone else's clothes.

He was no longer Zhou Yang, who needed Fang Tian's help to make a living within the Heavenly Principles Sect. Nor was he the junior officer in Anyang County, chased by Commander Chen.

He was a newly arrived junior officer in the Imperial Guard in the capital.

A small flag that has a nominal title but no real power.

This flying fish robe is both his identity and his shackles. Walking down the street, people will always give him a second glance. There is awe, curiosity, and also avoidance.

Zhou Yang didn't like this feeling.

He preferred to hide in the shadows, like a mouse. Safe and comfortable there.

He tugged at his collar, burying half his face in the raised collar. The sunlight warmed the back of his neck. He squinted, surveying the street called "Changlefang".

This is one of the busiest places in the capital. Vendors selling candied hawthorns, dough figurines, and people carrying straw tags to sell their children are all crammed together. The various sounds blend together like a pot of boiling porridge.

Doctor Liu's pharmacy was at the end of the street. When he came out, Doctor Liu handed him a prescription, telling him to go to "Baicaotang" to get some herbs. He said it was for Qin Shuang to improve her health. The fright that night, coupled with days of running around, had left her weak.

Zhou Yang held the piece of paper in his hand; the scent of ink still lingered on it. Instead of rushing to the pharmacy, he strolled around the streets.

He needed to adapt. Adapt to the pace of life in the capital, adapt to his identity as a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and adapt to the feeling of walking "openly and honestly" under the sun.

His demeanor is different from before.

He used to be the shrewd, street-smart type, with a touch of ingratiating cleverness. Now, that shrewdness has been suppressed, sunk deep within. His eyes remain calm, but beneath that calm lies a coldness, like the surface of a frozen lake, where you can't see how deep it is.

A pancake vendor, pushing his cart, hurried by and accidentally bumped into a scholar. The scholar's book fell to the ground, getting dusty. The two started arguing, attracting a crowd of onlookers.

Zhou Yang watched quietly without moving.

This kind of thing happens every day. He used to might have gone up and said a few words of advice, or even taken the opportunity to steal a couple of steamed buns. Now, he's just an observer.

He was doing calculations in his head.

They owed Dr. Liu a favor, a debt they would have to repay sooner or later. Right now, they were hiding in an inconspicuous courtyard, their food and lodging expenses covering everything. As for Qin Shuang, she seemed to be contacting some old subordinates, but without much progress.

They need money, they need a stable foothold.

The meager monthly salary of the Embroidered Uniform Guard is not enough. Far from enough.

Zhou Yang sighed and turned to walk towards the pharmacy. He was a little hungry and thought he should find a place to eat first.

His gaze swept over a restaurant on the street.

"Drunken Immortal Pavilion".

The signboard, with its gold lettering on a black background, looked quite impressive. Inside, a commotion arose, a mixture of a woman's weeping and a man's boisterous laughter.

Zhou Yang stopped in his tracks.

He disliked causing trouble. The cost of trouble was too high, especially in the capital, right under his nose.

But the crying sounded heart-wrenching.

He hesitated for a moment, but still stepped inside.

The restaurant was bustling with activity. Seven or eight tables of customers sat in the main hall, some playing drinking games, others drinking, and the air was thick with the smells of alcohol, food, and sweat.

The troublemakers were at a table by the window.

Three richly dressed young men, accompanied by several servants, surrounded a girl holding a pipa.

The girl looked no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. She was wearing a faded coarse cloth dress, and her hair, which had been neatly combed, was now messy. There were tear stains on her face and a red mark on the corner of her mouth.

"What are you crying about? Did someone in your family die?"

A burly young man slammed his wine glass on the table, splashing the girl with wine.

"We're doing you a favor by listening to you sing. You sing like you're wailing at a funeral, and you still expect money?"

Another tall, thin man pinched his chin, leering at the girl: "Stop crying, or you'll be worthless. Come with me to my manor, and I guarantee you'll live the high life."

The third one, the youngest, looked like a follower. He clapped and cheered, "Young master is right. This young lady has delicate skin and is much better than those actors on the stage."

The girl clutched her pipa, trembling, not daring to utter a single word. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

Some of the surrounding diners ignored it, continuing to drink with their heads down. Others glanced at it, shook their heads, and turned away. No one stepped forward.

Zhou Yang recognized the colors of the three men's clothes. They wore embroidered qilin patterns on their chests—the family crest of the Minister of War. The fat man at the head was Li Baoqing, the youngest son of Minister Li Mao, a notorious playboy in the capital.

We can't afford to mess with them.

Zhou Yang made up his mind about the matter. He found an inconspicuous corner to sit down, intending to order a pot of wine and two small dishes, eat, and then leave.

He didn't want to get involved. Nor did he need to.

"Damn it, they're so ungrateful!"

Li Baoqing cursed and kicked the girl's pipa.

With a loud crash, the pipa fell to the ground, breaking two strings.

The girl rushed over, hugged the worn-out pipa, and cried even harder.

"Stop crying! If you cry again, I'll sell you to a brothel!" Li Baoqing shouted impatiently.

Just then, the tall, thin man seemed to remember something and lowered his voice, saying:

"Brother Baoqing, don't make too much of a scene here. A couple of days ago, we went to Qin Shuang's residence in the Embroidered Uniform Guard to deliver a letter, and she didn't give us the time of day, did she? This young lady does have some of her charm. Especially that otherworldly air about her."

Li Baoqing chuckled.

"That ice-cold face? She's not even worthy to carry my shoes! Always wearing that stern face, like someone owes her eight hundred taels of silver. I bet she's just playing hard to get, waiting for me to force myself on her!"

"That's right," another chimed in, "a woman, becoming a centurion, who knows how many men she had to serve under the bed to climb up there."

These words, like needles, pierced Zhou Yang's ears.

He had already raised his glass, ready to take a sip.

The movement stopped.

The rim of the cup was only an inch away from his lips.

He slowly put down his wine glass, making a soft clinking sound.

Nobody noticed him. Everyone's attention was focused on the farce.

Zhou Yang sat in the shadows, his expression unchanged. But his eyes gradually grew cold.

Like a lake in winter, covered with a thin layer of ice.

He stood up and walked over.

The footsteps were neither fast nor slow, landing on the wooden floor with a "thump, thump" sound.

"Gentlemen."

Zhou Yang's voice was calm, without much variation.

Li Baoqing and his group were talking enthusiastically when they were interrupted, and they turned around angrily.

"Who the hell are you? Get the hell out of here!"

A servant-looking fellow came up and tried to push someone.

Zhou Yang ignored him, only looking at Li Baoqing with a slight smile on his face.

"Young master, you seem to be having good luck. How about we play a game?"

Li Baoqing paused for a moment, looking Zhou Yang up and down. Seeing that he was wearing a flying fish robe, a hint of apprehension flashed in his eyes, but it quickly turned into disdain.

"The Embroidered Uniform Guard? New here, huh? If you know what's good for you, get lost and stop getting in my way."

Zhou Yang smiled and said, "It won't keep you gentlemen from drinking. It'll only be a few rounds, it'll be over quickly."

He walked to the table, picked up the dice, and weighed them in his hand.

"It's simple. Guess whether it's odd or even. If I win, you all apologize to this girl and give her ten times the singing fee she's owed today. If I lose, the wine on my table is on me."

Li Baoqing became interested.

He thought Zhou Yang was a bit of a hothead and wanted to have some fun.

"Ten times? You said that?"

"I said it." Zhou Yang nodded.

"Alright!" Li Baoqing slapped his thigh. "I'll play with you! Don't try to cheat if you lose!"

The servants made way for them.

Zhou Yang put the dice into an empty bowl and covered it with another bowl. He flicked his wrist, and a "clattering" sound came from inside the bowl.

"Young master, guess."

Li Baoqing squinted and thought for a moment: "Single!"

Zhou Yang lifted the bowl.

Three dice, two, five, six. Thirteen. Odd.

"Young master has good luck," Zhou Yang said with a smile. "You win the first round."

Li Baoqing laughed smugly. He thought this Imperial Guard was a fool.

"Again!"

Zhou Yang shook the dice again.

"This time, I'm guessing even," Zhou Yang said.

Without a second thought, Li Baoqing declared, "Then I'll guess single!"

Open the bowl.

Three o'clock, three o'clock, four o'clock. Ten o'clock. Even.

Li Baoqing's face stiffened.

"Just luck, nothing but luck," he stubbornly insisted. "Let's try again!"

Zhou Yang didn't speak, but just smiled and shook the bowl again and again.

Zhou Yang won the second game.

Zhou Yang won the third game.

In the fourth round, Zhou Yang won again.

Li Baoqing's face went from white to red, then from red to pale. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. It wasn't that he couldn't accept defeat, but rather that he felt something was amiss. How could this person guess correctly every single time?

The surrounding diners noticed something was wrong and gathered around to watch the commotion.

"Brother Baoqing, how about... we just let it go?" the tall, thin man whispered a suggestion.

"Nonsense!" Li Baoqing shoved him away, his eyes red. "I refuse to believe this! One last bet! For big wins!"

He pulled a bag of silver from his pocket and threw it on the table with a "clatter," it weighed several dozen taels.

"I'll bet this! You dare?"

Zhou Yang glanced at the bag of silver, then at the girl on the ground holding a pipa.

"Alright," he nodded. "But young master, shouldn't you increase your bet?"

Li Baoqing gritted his teeth: "What do you want?"

"If I win," Zhou Yang said slowly, "besides paying you money, you'll also have to kneel down, kowtow to this girl, and say 'I'm sorry.'"

These words caused an uproar in the room.

Li Baoqing's face instantly turned a deep liver color.

"You fucking want to die!" he roared, and the thugs beside him were about to attack.

"Don't rush."

Zhou Yang's voice wasn't loud, but it made everyone stop what they were doing.

He looked at Li Baoqing with a calm gaze, but there was a chilling undercurrent in that calmness.

"Young master, a bet is a bet. In the capital, even those who try to make a living must follow principles. If you don't even understand this, how will you hold your head high in front of the Minister of War in the future?"

These words were like a slap in the face to Li Baoqing.

His father was the Minister of War, which was his greatest support and also his greatest weakness.

Li Baoqing was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently. He stared intently at Zhou Yang, as if he wanted to devour him.

After a long pause, he squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth: "Fine! As you wish!"

Zhou Yang smiled.

He picked up the dice and put them in the bowl.

This time, he shook it for a long time.

Everyone's heart was in their throat.

Li Baoqing's eyes were fixed on that hand.

"Open it." Zhou Yang pushed the bowl in front of him.

Li Baoqing's hands trembled slightly. He hesitated for a long time before finally calling out, "Single!"

Zhou Yang remained expressionless and reached out to lift the lid of the bowl.

A die.

a little.

one.

The entire room fell silent.

Li Baoqing was stunned. He won. He actually won.

He looked up in ecstasy, wanting to see Zhou Yang's bewildered face.

But Zhou Yang showed no surprise whatsoever.

He simply smiled, took out a few copper coins from his pocket, and placed them on the table.

"Young master, congratulations. This is my payment for the drinks."

Then he turned to the singing girl and said:

"Young lady, it will probably cost about two taels of silver to repair your pipa. Take the silver on this table. Consider the rest as a way to calm your nerves."

Li Baoqing then realized what was happening.

No, that's not right. I think I've been... fooled.

He won the last game, but he had lost so many before that. The stakes were different. The stakes before were paying money and apologizing. The stakes after that were kowtowing.

Zhou Yang never intended to win the last game. He used the victory in the final game to make himself forget the bets made before.

Zhou Yang didn't look at him again, nor at the bag of silver. He simply walked up to the girl, bent down, picked up the pipa from the ground, and handed it back to her.

"Girl, let's go. This place isn't for you."

The girl stared at him blankly, tears still streaming down her face, but her eyes held something else. Holding her worn-out pipa, she bowed deeply to Zhou Yang.

"Thank you... sir."

Then she picked up the bag of silver on the table, not daring to look at Li Baoqing, and quickly ran out of the restaurant.

Li Baoqing stood there, his face flushing red and then turning pale. He wanted to lash out, but couldn't find a reason. He had indeed won the last round. But watching the whole thing, he felt like a monkey, being completely played.

The money is gone, and so is the face.

The people around him looked at him with mockery.

"You...you just wait!" Li Baoqing pointed at Zhou Yang's back and shouted, his voice trembling with fear.

Zhou Yang didn't stop walking. He reached the door, then seemed to remember something, turned around, and gave Li Baoqing a kind smile.

"Young master, watch your words in the future. There's more than one person with the surname Qin in the Embroidered Uniform Guard. If what you say gets back to Commander Qin... she has a rather bad temper."

After saying that, he turned and walked out of the restaurant, disappearing into the bustling crowd in Chang Le Fang.

The sunlight shone brightly on him, making his flying fish robe still shine. Only his silhouette carried a hint of something unfathomable.

In the restaurant, Li Baoqing was so angry that he plopped down in a chair and swept all the cups on the table onto the floor.

He lost money and face, but in the end, he still had to thank that person.

Thank you to him, for not making me actually kneel down.