Chapter 5: Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard

The Jinyiwei guards at the entrance only spoke after watching Li Miao walk away. But with Li Miao’s keen hearing, even separated by two walls, he caught every word clearly.

He was used to it. Without pausing, he continued toward his own holding room.

It was just midday, mealtime. As Li Miao walked inside, people emerged from the holding rooms in twos and threes along both sides, heading out. All of them wore indigo official uniforms. When they suddenly caught sight of Li Miao in his loose, unkempt long robe, they were first taken aback; but upon recognizing him, their surprise turned to delight, and they all came forward to greet him.

“Commander.” “Commander, having your meal?”

Li Miao nodded, pulling things one after another from the bundle tucked under his arm and handing them out, one per person.

Those who received the items were all used to this; they accepted them with a smile and a word of thanks, then went off together to find lunch.

As Li Miao walked further away, voices drifted toward him from afar.

“To have served as a Jinyiwei like Commander Li, that’s truly the pinnacle.”

“Absolutely. No one in our office lives as comfortably as Commander Li.”

“Who wouldn’t say so? We’re up at the crack of dawn every day, can’t even loosen our uniform belts. But look at him—collar open, eating, coming in only after a good nap at noon, and no one dares say a word.”

“Do you think we’ll ever have days like that?”

“Which of us could? You or me?”

“Of course not. Commander Li’s been a Jinyiwei for twenty years—he was already a commander fifteen years ago! Not only senior, but also an old subordinate of the Chief Commander, and highly skilled.”

“He’s a Four-Hour Commander—only works four hours a day, but whatever the task, he gets it done within that time! Even the Chief Inspector has to placate him. We can’t compare...”

Li Miao could no longer make out the rest.

He ambled along at his own pace, greeting people and handing out things as he went. By the time he reached his own holding room, he’d just finished distributing everything.

Inside, a young man was pacing anxiously—it was Wang Hai, the trusted young Jinyiwei who had accompanied him the night before.

Seeing Li Miao, Wang Hai’s face lit up with joy. He hurried over, official uniform in hand, and as he helped Li Miao into it, he spoke rapidly.

“Commander, you’re finally here! The Chief Commander waited for you to report in last night and, not seeing you, smashed an entire set of scholar’s tools. The inkstone is still embedded in a tree outside and can’t be pried out! Hurry and put on your uniform and go see him, or he’ll be so angry something might happen!”

The previous night, Wang Hai had returned to the office to report, only to be berated thoroughly by the Chief Commander for Li Miao’s absence and ordered to wait in Li Miao’s room to deliver the message: report to the Chief Commander the moment he arrived.

He had waited from last night until now, anxious as an ant on a hot pan. Seeing Li Miao at last, he could barely contain his relief.

Wang Hai circled Li Miao, adjusting his collar and sleeves. With practiced ease, he dressed Li Miao in his official robes, not once hindering his movement. This wasn’t just skill—it was the product of over a decade of training in soft martial arts. Without such finesse and control, no one could so swiftly and gently dress a walking Jinyiwei commander in such stiff and intricate attire.

Though it looked like the work of a maidservant, it was “pluck the leaf without shaking the branch, gather the flower unnoticed by the bee”—the essence of soft martial arts. Used in a real fight, it would be a deadly technique for injuring an opponent’s meridians or flesh, a method beyond the reach of ordinary masters.

Li Miao replied, “He’s the one pushing me into this. I was working for him in the middle of the night—if I don’t even ask for a favor in return, how dare he throw a tantrum?”

Wang Hai said nothing. After all, the Jinyiwei was a secret police force of the feudal era, with strict hierarchy and harsh discipline. Who would dare bargain with the Chief Commander?

Only their own commander could ignore the Chief’s tantrums and come away unpunished—while his subordinates were the ones to suffer the consequences.

But now wasn’t the time for words—the most important thing was to get his indolent commander to report in.

Li Miao glanced outside and muttered, “Isn’t it rest time now?” With that, he tried to take a seat.

Wang Hai knew trouble was brewing. Once his commander sat down, there would be at least an hour’s nap. If the Chief Commander didn’t see him soon, and stormed over, Wang Hai would certainly be made an example of.

Quickly, he covertly kicked a small stone at the leg of the chair, cracking it, then hurried forward, pretending to help Li Miao with the chair.

With a crack, the chair—already split—gave way and toppled as Wang Hai pressed it forward with force.

“Oh no! It was fine yesterday!” Wang Hai exclaimed in surprise, then turned to Li Miao. “Commander, I’ll fetch a new one from the storehouse. Since there’s nowhere to sit now, why not go to the Chief Commander’s office? He was just saying he wanted to see you.”

Li Miao looked at Wang Hai’s earnest face, then at the broken chair, and shook his head. “Remember to get me a comfortable one.”

He then took a yellowed sheet of paper from under the paperweight on the table and tucked it into his robe.

Only then did he finally stride off toward the Chief Commander’s office.

Wang Hai let out a long breath of relief, only to see Li Miao poke his head back in from outside. “Hai, go to the vault and get some silver. Take it to my house and give it to Si’er.”

“Yes, sir.”

Only after Wang Hai answered did Li Miao leave.

In the main hall at the center of the Jinyiwei office—the Chief Commander Zhu Zaiji’s study—Li Miao arrived.

The hall wasn’t large, just a few yards square. In the courtyard stood a great tree, thick enough that it would take two people to encircle it; in its trunk, an inkstone was embedded to a depth of a full palm, with fresh sap flowing from the wound. Clearly, it had been thrown in recently, just as Wang Hai had described.

The doors stood wide open. On the smooth flagstones outside, shards of porcelain and scattered tea leaves were embedded in the cracks.

A Jinyiwei in a bull-patterned robe squatted on the ground, picking shards out of the stone.

Li Miao paid no heed, stepping inside as if nothing was amiss.

Within, Chief Commander Zhu Zaiji was just lifting a chopstickful of leafy greens from a bowl, about to eat. At that moment, he glanced up and saw Li Miao ambling in with his usual nonchalance.

With a grunt, Zhu Zaiji flicked his chopsticks at Li Miao.

Whoosh!

The pair of chopsticks sliced through the air with a shrill whistle, hurtling directly at Li Miao’s face.

Everyone in the Jinyiwei knew the Chief Commander’s temper—he liked to throw things when angry, and his martial skill made the habit dangerous. Many skilled Jinyiwei had suffered for it.

These chopsticks were no exception. One carried open force, the other hidden; one led, the other followed; both were thrown with the mastery of a hidden weapons expert. Zhu Zaiji was truly furious—those chopsticks could easily have killed a second-rate martial artist.

Of course, to Li Miao, they posed no threat.

He raised his hand and brushed them aside. The chopsticks veered off course and embedded themselves in the stone threshold with a pair of sharp cracks.

The Jinyiwei in the bull-patterned robe, who had been picking out porcelain shards, looked up to see two chopsticks newly planted in the stone. He sighed, glanced inside, then turned back to pry out the chopsticks.

Li Miao entered, picked a chair at random, and slouched down lazily, meeting Zhu Zaiji’s furious glare with indifference.

“Don’t throw the bowl—there’s soup in it. I’m wearing the flying fish robe today, and if it gets stained, that’s an offense against the Emperor.”

Lounging in the chair, Li Miao propped his head on one hand as he spoke.