Chapter Six: Homeless

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Because the conflict at the wharf that afternoon had delayed them considerably, Boss Wang was ultimately forced to pay Ding Li and the others extra for an impromptu overtime shift. Despite receiving a bit more money, by the time Ding Li left the docks for home, it was already very late. To his surprise, he found that the loyal Saiyijade was still waiting for him, accompanied by more than a dozen young men from foreign lands, their reason being a concern that the unrelenting Master Liu and Mangy Wu might have secretly sent men to ambush him.

Grateful for their kindness, Ding Li politely declined. If he really let Saiyijade and the others escort him home, there wouldn’t be enough dinner at home to go around. After a few lighthearted jokes, Ding Li insisted on going home alone. Of course, he could not escape a round of heartfelt warnings from Saiyijade and the others, nor the chest-thumping promises from each of the young men.

On the way home, Ding Li sorted through the information he’d gathered from Gouzi, the Wang brothers, and Saiyijade. In the Guangzhou port area, the two largest merchant guilds were the Zhangs and the Caos, both backed by formidable powers. The Zhang family’s patron was Li Tiao, the Military Commissioner of Lingnan East Circuit, while the Cao family was supported by Cao Wei, the Inspector of Lingnan East Circuit, and Tian Gaolang, the Maritime Commissioner.

Though the Military Commissioner held both military and political authority, in Guangzhou Prefecture—home to the largest port in all of Tang—the vast financial power could not be monopolized by one man. The Inspector’s role was to serve as a balance, while the special position of Maritime Commissioner placed the control of maritime tax revenues from Guangzhou and even the entire Lingnan Circuit firmly in his grasp.

Amidst the struggle and balance between military and financial power, Ding Li keenly sensed that the recent incident at the docks was far from simple. The spheres of influence of the Zhangs and the Caos at the wharf were clearly demarcated, so why did Mangy Wu dare to break the rules so abruptly? And why was Master Liu—the leader of the Chaozhou gang under the Cao merchants—there at just that moment?

As for the appearance of Uncle Xiang, the chief steward of the Zhang Merchants’ Guild, Ding Li had heard from several people that he often appeared at the docks, especially at Fuxu Port outside the southern part of Guangzhou. Both the Zhangs’ and the Caos’ largest maritime enterprises were based there.

Still, no matter how he pondered, Ding Li realized his information was too scant. Beyond what lay on the surface, the rest was mere guesswork, almost without basis—just subconscious speculation.

“Hm?” As Ding Li wandered through the night streets, he suddenly furrowed his brow, sniffed the air sharply, and looked in the direction of a pungent, acrid smell.

This is bad! The thought flashed through Ding Li’s mind. He broke into a run, his gaze fixed on a plume of black smoke and a flicker of red fire in the darkness above. All along, he’d worried about being ambushed on the road, yet he’d forgotten he had a home—and forgotten that the one he’d provoked was Mangy Wu, as relentless as a festering sore.

It took only moments for Ding Li, running with all his strength, to reach the entrance of his own alleyway. Thick smoke billowed from the not-so-deep lane, the acrid smell stinging his eyes and forcing him to squint, fanning the air before his nose with one hand.

His small courtyard was the sixth house on the left, now engulfed in roaring flames, its outline lost completely—nearby neighbors’ garden walls were being devoured by the fire as well. Residents bustled about, fetching water to fight the blaze, with hardly anyone noticing Ding Li’s arrival.

“Liu Sheng! Sheng’er?!” Shaking off his shock, Ding Li’s first thought was for Liu Sheng, who had stayed home. He rushed madly into the alley, shouting with all his might, “Liu Sheng! Liu Sheng! Where are you? I’m home!”

Thick smoke severely limited his vision, but the fire could not muffle his desperate cries. Soon, a familiar voice called out, and Ding Li stopped in his tracks, looking toward the sound.

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“Ali! Over here—your Sheng’er is with me!” It was Aunt Zhang, the neighbor, crouching against a wall with her daughter, Peilan. In her arms lay Liu Sheng, and she held a ceramic bowl in her hand.

“Liu Sheng! What happened to you?” Ding Li panicked, ignoring the bucket brigade and rushing straight to Aunt Zhang. He took the unconscious Liu Sheng into his arms, anxiously inspecting her. Under the firelight, her delicate face, now blackened by smoke, had lost its usual soft luster.

“What a calamity!” With Ding Li’s arrival, Aunt Zhang finally had someone to complain to. With Peilan’s support, she stood and began to grumble, “Ali, how could you get involved with Mangy Wu and his lot? Those out-of-towners are capable of anything! How did a good home end up like this? It’s a sin, I tell you!”

“Mother! Please, say no more! Brother Li certainly didn’t want this,” Peilan couldn’t stand it, tugging her mother’s sleeve and whispering her disapproval. She turned to comfort Ding Li, “Don’t worry, Brother Li. Sister Liu Sheng is fine. She just fainted after rushing out of the blaze. My mother and I checked—she’s uninjured. It must have been from the heavy smoke.”

Ding Li didn’t respond, nor did he hear a word of Aunt Zhang’s complaints. All his attention was fixed on the wooden tablet Liu Sheng clutched tightly to her chest—the spirit tablet of his late mother, Lady Ding.

Ding Li had never met his mother, but the fragments of memory in his mind would not let him forget her. More importantly, he had no memory of a father; ever since he could remember, his mother had brought him to live in this poor district. Yet the Ding family had always managed well, for every year, someone mysterious would send a generous sum for their living expenses. Even the fine musical instruments left at home filled Ding Li with confusion.

He reached out to take the memorial tablet, but Liu Sheng held it so tightly that not even her frowning brow could be eased, as if someone were trying to take away her most precious treasure. In the end, Ding Li could only give up, but he noticed a small book loosely wedged between her fingers and the tablet.

Ding Li had never seen such a book at home, and seeing how Liu Sheng kept it with the spirit tablet, his curiosity was piqued. He carefully drew it out and, by firelight, discovered it was a genealogy.

Opening it, his curiosity grew. The first two pages, which should have contained a preface and family introduction, were entirely blank. The third page held only a single, neatly written character: Li, with the given name replaced by an X, and beneath, the date: Tang, Dahu 7th year, sixth month.

It wasn’t until the third page that he found two complete names and dates:

Ding Li, styled Ziyi, male, Tang Dazhong 12th year, seventeenth day of the twelfth month.

Concubine, Liu Sheng, female, Tang Xiantong 2nd year.

This was a most irregular genealogy, yet it shook Ding Li profoundly. Why would the first name in his family’s register bear the surname Li? The birth year was recorded, but not the year of death—did that mean his father was still alive?

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“Brother Li, you… you’re back?” In the midst of his confusion, Liu Sheng stirred weakly in his arms, her eyes just opening as two crystalline tears traced clean tracks down her soot-stained cheeks. Her lips quivered, and she began to sob with grievance, “Our… our home… it’s been burned! Wuuuu…”

Hearing this, Ding Li felt a pang in his heart. Though he had lived as a special forces soldier, adrift and homeless, since coming to this world, he returned every day to the little courtyard now completely claimed by fire. Like Liu Sheng, he was deeply attached to it, but now, with the crackling behind him, he knew it would soon be nothing but ruins.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. So it’s burned—there will be another,” Ding Li said softly, holding Liu Sheng tightly, though with every shudder of her frail body, his heart was wrung as if by a cruel hand, as though a sharp blade were slowly carving him open again and again.

“Ali!” In the heavy silence, Old Wang, Aunt Zhang’s husband, walked over with slow steps, tossing his empty water bucket aside. He looked at Ding Li with helpless eyes and sighed, “Don’t blame your uncle for being timid, lad. After all, I have a family to think of. Mangy Wu’s men said that if you dared stay, they’d come burn your house again, and beat us every time they came! Some of the young men next door tried to stop them and got badly beaten for it. Alas…”

“Uncle Wang, I’m sorry for causing everyone so much trouble!” Ding Li was shocked to hear this. He hadn’t expected things to escalate so far, that the enemy would be so ruthless as to threaten his neighbors openly. Without lifting his head, he glanced down at Liu Sheng, whose eyes were wide with fear. His heart clenched again; he gritted his teeth, drew a sharp breath, and cradled Liu Sheng in his arms.

“Don’t be afraid. With me here, we’ll have a home again,” Ding Li said with a confident, warm smile, his dark eyes shining with unusual light. It seemed to give Liu Sheng courage at once—her lips pressed together, she nodded firmly, her gaze softening with trust and resolve.

“Ali, here’s some money we saved from the fire—take it with you in case you need it on the road,” Old Wang’s voice sounded behind him again. He held up a small bag of copper coins—all Ding Li’s savings from the past months. In the chaos of the fire, Liu Sheng had forgotten it in her rush to save the spirit tablet.

“I’ve troubled everyone enough. Uncle Wang, please divide it among everyone—the sum is small, but take it as a token of my guilt,” Ding Li replied calmly, still not turning his head. He glanced around at those nearby, took a deep breath, exchanged a gentle look with Liu Sheng, and stepped out of the alley, each stride heavier than the last.

“Brother Li, where are you going? This is your home!” Peilan, Aunt Zhang’s daughter, cried out anxiously. She and Liu Sheng were close, and she had always regarded Ding Li as a brother. But her shout did nothing to stop his steps.

“Foolish girl! Stop shouting! Don’t bring trouble to our house,” Aunt Zhang immediately reached out and tapped her daughter’s forehead with two firm jabs, then pushed her behind, as if afraid she might run after Ding Li.

“So many fine instruments, all burned like firewood! If we’d sold them, they’d be worth a tidy sum…” Before Ding Li had even left the alley, Old Wang turned and sighed at the dying fire, then weighed the tattered coin pouch in his hand. His eyes darted around, and he quickly slipped a small handful into his shirt, casting a reluctant look at the pouch before going to distribute the rest among the neighbors who’d suffered losses.