Chapter 1588 - Disguise
Given Li Yongxun's position, his signature on such documents wasn't unusual—but the coincidence was too precise to ignore. Liu Fuqing decided to visit National Police Headquarters personally and investigate the "illegal solicitation" case for additional clues.
Before leaving, he assigned a task to Ke Yun: "Arrest Li Yongxun immediately. Make it quiet."
"Are you dressed yet?" Sima Qiudao asked from the outer room, his voice low but edged with impatience.
Several days earlier, he'd instructed the female warriors under his command to leave the inn separately and reassemble quietly at this small courtyard he'd rented at considerable expense.
The Qiongan Inn was too conspicuous for changing disguises. This courtyard stood in Lingao's affluent residential quarter—secluded and unremarkable. The perfect place to transform.
Zhou Zhongjun's voice drifted from the east wing once more: "Almost ready."
She'd repeated this phrase several times over the past hour. Though the rustle of fabric and murmured conversation never ceased from behind the closed doors, the clothes remained unchanged.
Yet he couldn't very well rush them. A man leading these female disciples—most of them eighteen or nineteen years old and in the flower of their youth, each belonging to various martial sects—had to maintain strict propriety. The slightest whisper of impropriety would ruin half a lifetime's reputation. So he kept his face stern and his mouth shut.
Now Sima Qiudao sat stiffly in the central hall, projecting an image of "heart still as water" while inwardly churning with agitation at the women's endless chirping. The sun had already climbed high. If they didn't depart soon, they might miss their window entirely.
He'd already visited a barbershop to have his head shaved and purchased clothes from a local store, dressing himself as one of the "Fake Aussies" so common in these parts. To better emulate the style of those "cadres," he'd even bought a "fountain pen" and tucked it into his breast pocket.
Examining his "Chinese-style jacket," he felt nothing but awkwardness: his head felt strangely cool, and he'd never worn such short clothing. It wasn't that he'd never donned "short attire"—but the Aussie fashion with hems that barely reached the waist left him utterly disoriented. And these trousers fit far too... closely.
"Oh my, no, no—it's too short..."
"I can't wear this! I'm going to tell the Abbess!"
"Sister Zhongjun, how do I put on this... bra?"
...
Sima Qiudao drew a coarse breath: These thieves! Their rebellion is truly unconventional! If you're going to revolt, just revolt—why create such shameless fashions!
Acquiring the "Fake Aussie female student" uniforms had been an ordeal. Sima Qiudao and his female disciples had run themselves ragged over the past days. Uniforms were unavailable for purchase anywhere, and ambushing female students to strip their clothes proved impractical—Fake Aussie schoolgirls were rarely seen on the streets.
With the day fast approaching, Sima Qiudao abandoned hope of obtaining student uniforms altogether. He ordered Zhou Zhongjun, who was most familiar with "Fake Aussie women's clothing," to buy an assortment of women's garments from East Gate Market. If they couldn't impersonate female students, posing as "female Fake Aussies" was better than nothing.
Then, unexpectedly, Stone Old Man came through. Sima Qiudao secured three sets of authentic Fangcaodi female student uniforms.
Obtaining the uniforms brought enormous relief. Upon closer inspection, however, they proved to be well-worn—tops and skirts only, with no matching shoes or socks.
"Shoes and socks are simple," said Zhou Zhongjun, who despite normally wearing "Song style" clothing had become thoroughly acquainted with Lingao's shops. "The leather shoes they wear aren't sold elsewhere, but I've heard they also wear black cloth shoes. Those are everywhere. White socks are easy to find too."
But with only three uniforms, not every female disciple could change her attire. Only three could get close to the Real Aussies. After considerable deliberation, Sima Qiudao selected the three young female disciples with the finest martial skills to disguise themselves as students; the others would coordinate from nearby positions.
Though this group of female disciples weren't the assassination's main force—that role belonged to Zhuo Yifan and his team—Sima Qiudao estimated the others probably wouldn't even have a chance to approach the Real Aussies. In the end, the desperate strike of these girls might be their only hope of salvaging some measure of success...
Fortunately, the women's status was modest. Even if they perished, the various sects would suffer no grave loss. If they managed to kill a few Real Aussies, the mission would have some justification.
In the east wing, seven or eight women chattered endlessly. The glass windows were hidden behind tightly drawn curtains, dimming the otherwise bright room. A full-length mirror purchased for the occasion stood against one wall. The bed and table lay buried beneath piles of clothing.
Zhou Zhongjun wore a female student uniform, her hair freshly trimmed. She looked convincing. The other female disciples, however, proved far less cooperative. Of the two other designated students—both selected for their martial prowess—one had initially "resolutely refused" to don the uniform, citing "corruption of public morals." The issue wasn't the short skirt—that was no longer considered a major problem—but the matching bra, which made her chest appear so prominent and full that it struck her as "lewd."
Zhou Zhongjun had no choice but to let her bind herself with cloth strips in the traditional manner before finally coaxing her into the uniform. Nan Wan'er raised no objections, but she blushed constantly because the clothes fit poorly. Once dressed, she kept tugging the skirt downward, nearly pulling it off entirely.
The remaining female disciples each found cause for complaint: skirts too short, arms too exposed, necklines too revealing... Some refused to wear socks and insisted on trousers beneath their skirts. Others objected to the patterns, claiming the plain designs were "taboo"...
After nearly an hour of struggle, Zhou Zhongjun finally pacified everyone, and they all changed into "Song style" women's clothing.
Sima Qiudao cast a hurried glance at the transformed warriors. They stood around looking mortified, as though wishing the earth would swallow them whole. The bold, heroic bearing of Jianghu daughters had vanished utterly. He sighed inwardly: The thieves have corrupted public morals to such an extent!
He offered a few curt words, urging them not to fret over their attire lest they betray themselves to the thieves.
"In ancient times, Yu Rang lacquered his body to appear leprous and swallowed charcoal to disguise his voice—all to assassinate Zhao Xiangzi, to avenge the feud of his late master. Today, we rise not for personal vengeance but to deliver the people of the entire realm!"
After this pronouncement, he ordered the weapons distributed.
The arms were all easily concealed: short swords, Emei daggers. Everyone received two or three throwing darts. To ensure killing blows, every weapon had been tempered with poison.
"Depart in groups of two or three!" Sima Qiudao commanded. "Stagger your departures!"
The sluice gate rose slowly. Qian Duoduo gently adjusted the tiller. The Xiaocang glided across the water's surface and slipped into the Wenlan River.
The wind wasn't favorable, but this posed no difficulty for the female sailing crew, who now handled the sails with practiced confidence. They shifted the canvas expertly. The Xiaocang, freshly painted with white oil, deftly skirted a train of barges belching black smoke and headed toward East Gate Market.
The small boat sailed onward. The channeled river stretched wide before them. The girls gazed at the scenery along both banks as the breeze whispered past, lifting their spirits.
Qian Duoduo and Zhong Xiaoying wore striped naval shirts and canvas shorts, working barefoot. Sonia refused to dress so "casually," though she too wore practical working clothes. Only Lin Ziqi and Zhang Yunmi were dressed for the occasion—Lin Ziqi in the full Learning Institute uniform according to the "dress code," Zhang Yunmi already in her performance costume.
"Well? Traveling by boat is rather pleasant, isn't it?" Qian Duoduo said proudly.
"But we've made a completely unnecessary detour," Lin Ziqi pointed out. The idea had been Qian Duoduo's: everyone would gather at the Feiyun Club, then take the Xiaocang to the gymnasium for rehearsal.
Today was the day of the official dress rehearsal. Though called a rehearsal, it was essentially a formal performance—all performers would run through the complete performance sequence, merely omitting transitions, intermissions, and official speeches. Three days' worth of programs compressed into a single day.
Scheduling the rehearsal on a rest day had been a deliberate choice. The day off allowed more students and young naturalized citizens to attend as observers. During the actual performances, audiences would be allocated by industry and quota, with limited seats reserved for young people. The push to popularize the new culture focused specifically on youth.
"Is it really appropriate for us to arrive at the gymnasium like this?" Zhang Yunmi sat in the cabin. "Uncle Dongmen said we should take a carriage with guards escorting us."
Lin Ziqi and Zhang Yunmi had originally intended to follow Dongmen Chuiyu's instructions—a guarded carriage. But Qian Duoduo had persuaded them to travel by boat from the club to the gymnasium instead.
"Don't worry. The water's completely safe today—the guard who escorted you to the club said as much. Boats are actually safer than roads. Any rebel movement is visible a mile away on the water."
"Speaking of which," Lin Ziqi asked, "why wouldn't you let the guard come aboard? He could have ensured our safety and participated in the rehearsal himself. Two birds with one stone."
Zhang Yunmi nodded. "I think we could have let him join us. It seemed unreasonable to refuse. He looked quite disappointed."
"Our Xiaocang has an all-female crew. How can we allow a man aboard?" Qian Duoduo shook her head emphatically. "Besides, with me as your guard, you still have doubts? His skills might not even match mine."
Lin Ziqi laughed. "There you go boasting again."
Qian Duoduo bristled: "Has he fired more shots than me? Hmph—and those two black powder revolvers he carries? I wouldn't even bother roasting them..."
"Alright, alright, our safety rests entirely in your hands. Don't let us down," Lin Ziqi said, resigned. "Uncle Dongmen says enemies are active in Lingao right now."