Gu Pingyuan stared helplessly at Batu’s servants ahead, his body frozen like a statue, just waiting for them to shout: “What’s in this cart?” If that happened, all would be lost!

Unexpectedly, after these men exited the door, they kept their eyes straight ahead, with a sinister fire burning in them, and marched directly toward a house across the street. When they reached it, they didn’t even call out but barged straight in.

Gu Pingyuan waited until the entire group had entered that courtyard before realizing his incredible luck. If not now, then when? He gave a backward glance, led Qiao Songnian away from the crowd, found a dark alley, and slipped into it.

“Master Gu, continuing like this won’t work. It seems Batu’s men have split into several groups and are searching throughout the city. We were lucky this time, but we might be caught next time,” Qiao Songnian said anxiously. “If only we had a place to hide for just a day or two. After Batu searches the city and finds nothing, he’ll naturally withdraw his men.”

Everything Qiao mentioned, Gu Pingyuan had already considered. But these were two carts of medicinal herbs, not two small pills. In such haste, where could they find a place to hide the medicine? Moreover, no one would risk involvement for their sake.

“We need someplace that can keep us hidden, and someone willing to let us hide there. This is truly difficult.” The situation was urgent, and experienced advisors like Old Qi weren’t by his side. Gu Pingyuan stomped his foot in frustration.

Suddenly, he heard rapid footsteps. Gu Pingyuan quickly looked up toward the alley entrance and saw a squad of soldiers marching past in orderly formation.

“Ah, if the military gets involved, this will become even more difficult.”

“Don’t worry, Master Gu,” said Qiao Songnian, who wasn’t visiting Bayan Lege for the first time and knew something about it. “It’s the afternoon watch now. Those are city garrison troops returning to their barracks after training exercises. They have nothing to do with our situation.”

When Qiao said they weren’t connected, Gu Pingyuan’s eyes lit up. “What did you say? There are barracks in the city?”

“Yes, the military camp is nearby, not far from here.”

Gu Pingyuan suddenly recalled his early days at the Fengtian military camp. Back then, as a newcomer, he was bullied by the veteran prisoners. All the hardest labor was assigned to him. “Horses won’t fatten without night fodder,” they said, and he had to add feed three times each night. During the bitter cold beyond the Great Wall, he nearly froze to death several times just getting up in the middle of the night to feed the horses.

“I’ve got it!” Gu Pingyuan clapped his hands, startling Qiao Songnian.

“Let’s hide these two carts of medicine in the military camp,” Gu Pingyuan said, his eyes gleaming.

“What?!” Qiao Songnian’s jaw dropped. “Is that possible? The military and Batu are on the same side. Wouldn’t we be sending sheep into the tiger’s mouth?”

“What if the tiger doesn’t know we’re sending in fat sheep?” A mysterious smile curled at the corner of Gu Pingyuan’s lips. “I plan to employ a stratagem of deception—disguising these two carts of medicine as horse fodder and delivering them to the stables at the military camp. If we can just delay for a day or two, we’ll find a way to get them back out.”

“Won’t the horses eat them?” Qiao Songnian thought the idea was good but worried the horses might eat the medicinal herbs.

Gu Pingyuan answered confidently: “I’ve been in a military camp before. They always keep at least three days’ worth of horse feed in reserve. In other words, the stables have enough existing feed to last three days, and they won’t touch newly arrived fodder.”

Qiao Songnian was right. After walking forward past one more street, at the base of the city wall stood the military garrison. From a distance, they could see spears, swords, and halberds, with tiger, leopard, eagle, and wolf banners, and the high-standing gate and watchpost.

Although Mongolian and Fengtian camps had different layouts, the entrance to the stables would never be through the main gate. Gu Pingyuan boldly entered through the west side door and, surprisingly, this proved correct. The gate guards, seeing they were transporting fodder, poked their spears into the hay a few times. Gu Pingyuan recalled being inspected when leaving Shanhaiguan Pass and felt a certain poignancy.

Seeing there was nothing else in the hay carts and that the drivers didn’t look like bad people, the soldiers only questioned them briefly before letting them enter.

Once inside the camp, things became easier. Gu Pingyuan knew that stables were always located in remote areas because nobody wanted to smell the odor, so he easily found the stables by going against the flow of people.

“Master Gu, what do we do now?” Qiao Songnian had never been in a military camp before and looked somewhat bewildered at the endless row of horse pens.

“Shh, keep your voice down. Don’t let others hear you speaking Han Chinese,” Gu Pingyuan whispered while driving the ox cart. “The fodder stores are semi-open air structures on both sides of the horse pens. We’ll drive the carts over there. If we meet a stableman, tell him this: we’re merchants from the interior who came to trade horses, but the owner we’re dealing with fell ill. Worried about delaying the camp’s fodder, we kindly helped deliver the hay. As for payment, in a few days when the person recovers, he’ll naturally come to settle the bill. This gives us a pretext so that in a couple of days, we can claim the fodder was delivered to the wrong place. Since they haven’t paid for it yet, they’ll naturally let us take the hay back without argument.”

“Master Gu, you’re brilliant! To think of such an ingenious plan—hiding medicinal herbs as horse fodder in a military camp. Even if Batu turns Bayan Lege city upside down, he won’t find a single herb.”

“Quiet, someone’s coming.” Sharp-eyed Gu Pingyuan spotted someone swaying toward them.

“Hey, who are you? I don’t recognize you!” The newcomer squinted, reeking of alcohol, his fur robe half open, even his chest flushed red from drinking.

Qiao Songnian hurried forward and repeated what Gu Pingyuan had taught him. The man replied carelessly, “Fine, just unload it over there.”

Gu Pingyuan and his assistant exchanged glances, both delighted. They were about to follow instructions when another voice called from nearby.

“Wait!”

Gu Pingyuan quickly stopped what he was doing. Another man approached, in his forties, with calluses on both palms and backs of his hands, particularly on his finger joints—clearly someone who had carried fodder bundles for years, leaving deep marks.

“Old Stone, go rest. This isn’t your concern!” slurred the drunk man.

The man called “Old Stone” ignored him, walked over, took one look, and said, “This is feather grass. It’s very bitter and never used as fodder. Take it back.”

Unexpectedly facing this obstacle, Gu Pingyuan was about to speak when the drunk man, probably feeling that “Old Stone” had embarrassed him in front of strangers, angrily said, “I say accept it, you say reject it. Are you deliberately opposing me?”

“Heh, go ask that camp officer foster brother of yours. If the horses get sick from this, even he can’t take responsibility,” Old Stone said disdainfully.

The drunk man knew Old Stone was right, but having long relied on his foster brother’s influence to swagger around the stables, he couldn’t lose face. He simply turned and walked away, cursing under his breath.

“Quickly drive your carts out of here. How could ox carts enter the stables? Ridiculous.” Old Stone was clearly an experienced stableman and showed them not the slightest courtesy.

Gu Pingyuan had Qiao Songnian translate while he addressed Old Stone: “Sir, we’re merely fulfilling someone’s request. Please just let us unload the grass. Then we can report back that we’ve completed our task.”

“I’m not a ‘sir,’ just a stableman. What you’re asking isn’t possible. What if some fool like that man feeds it to the horses and upsets their stomachs? Take it away quickly!” Old Stone’s tone left no room for compromise.

Gu Pingyuan frowned, took out a twenty-tael bank note from his sleeve, and offered it.

“Please help us. This small token is for your wine,” Gu Pingyuan had assumed that a stableman’s monthly wages would be only two or three taels at most, so this note would be more than enough to move him, but he had misjudged.

Old Stone grew angry at the sight of the bank note. He raised his hand and with a “slap” knocked away Gu Pingyuan’s outstretched hand, pointing at his nose and saying, “Let me tell you, if I loved money, I could learn from other camp stablemen. Today I could take military horses out for breeding, tomorrow secretly sell a couple and report them as dead from disease. Making money would be easy. But I’ve spent my whole life loving horses, not money. Get out of here!”

Gu Pingyuan was stunned by his rebuke. Qiao Songnian moved closer and said to Gu Pingyuan, “He’s a stubborn one, impervious to persuasion. We’d be better off dealing with that earlier fellow. He’d surely take money to help us.”

“That’s not the point. This Old Stone deserves respect,” Gu Pingyuan calculated inwardly. Seeing Old Stone still standing angrily to one side, he steeled himself, stepped forward and said, “If you love horses, you should let me unload this fodder. These are all life-saving medicinal herbs.”

Old Stone was startled. “Medicinal herbs? Life-saving?”

Gu Pingyuan looked around to ensure no one was nearby and said quietly, “A contagious horse plague has broken out in the deep northern grasslands that can spread to humans. Do you know about this?”

Old Stone, being in a military camp with horsemen coming and going from all regions, naturally had more current information than others. He hesitantly said, “I’ve heard some rumors, but don’t know if they’re true!”

“They’re absolutely true!” Gu Pingyuan briefly explained how the prince’s mansion had found a precious prescription, how Batu was cheating when buying medicine, how he himself had bought out all the feather grass, how Batu was searching the city leaving him with nowhere to go, and finally how he thought of disguising the herbs as horse fodder to hide them in the military camp stables. Old Stone listened in astonishment.

“Is this true?” he asked, dubious.

“If I speak a single falsehood, may I die by the sword and never find peace in the afterlife,” Gu Pingyuan knew the key was whether Old Stone would believe him, so without hesitation he swore a solemn oath. Then he continued, “Think about it. If the epidemic spreads here without these medicinal herbs, horses will infect people, and people will infect horses. By then, none of the horses you care for will survive—they’ll all die from the disease.”

This struck Old Stone at his vulnerable point. As someone who valued horses as his life, he immediately became anxious upon hearing this.

“What should we do?”

“Right now, I’m in a contest with Batu. Unless he offers a fair price, I absolutely won’t sell him the herbs. If you help me, forcing Batu to yield sooner, then when the epidemic is suppressed, won’t these horses be safe?” Gu Pingyuan knew that to convince someone, you must let them find a benefit, preferably the one they care about most.

Sure enough, Old Stone was persuaded. After much thought, he finally agreed to hide the medicinal herbs in the military camp. But since Gu Pingyuan might not be the one to retrieve them later, they needed a token.

Gu Pingyuan thought for a moment, took out a Xianfeng coin from his pocket, smashed it on the stone feeding trough, breaking it in half. He gave one half to Old Stone, instructing him, “Only give the herbs to someone who can match this broken edge. No matter who comes, don’t hand over the herbs unless they have the matching piece.”

Old Stone nodded in agreement. Gu Pingyuan, not daring to linger, bowed and bid farewell. As they walked out, Qiao Songnian finally asked, “Master Gu, how could you dare tell him the truth? He’s also Mongolian. Aren’t you afraid he’ll inform Batu?”

Gu Pingyuan replied as they walked, “We Hui merchants have a saying: ‘When dealing with people, connect with their hearts; when watering trees, water their roots.’ Though I’ve known Old Stone for less than a quarter of an hour, I’ve seen through to his heart. Since he wouldn’t take a bribe, he’s not a man who covets money. If he had accepted money, I wouldn’t have told him a word of truth. Remember, whether a person can be trusted doesn’t depend on whether they’re Mongolian or Han, but on whether they would sell their principles out of greed.”

Old Qi and Liu Heita waited anxiously at the inn, desperately hoping for Gu Pingyuan’s return, but he hadn’t appeared. They didn’t know he had gone out to collect medicine, and worried something had happened to him. Their hearts were filled with anxiety, but they couldn’t show it. They had to keep pretending that Gu Pingyuan was still in his room recovering from illness. This was torturing both of them, especially the straightforward Liu Heita. As days passed, each felt like a year, and large blisters formed around his mouth.

Just when Liu Heita could no longer contain his temper, the innkeeper smilingly led in a Mongolian doctor.

“Master Liu, this Master Gu has been ill for many days without improvement. I’ve invited a divine healer from the prince’s mansion to examine him.”

Liu Heita, bottled up with frustration for days, glared at the innkeeper before speaking, making the innkeeper freeze. The innkeeper thought to himself, how strange this big fellow is—I find a doctor to examine their sick companion, and he looks at me as if I’m trying to poison someone.

“Not allowed!” Liu Heita said in a gruff voice. “Master Gu needs to avoid drafts. No one can go in!”

“But… this is a doctor!”

“Doctors aren’t allowed either!” Liu Heita blocked the stairs, refusing to let the innkeeper bring anyone up to the second floor.

Seeing his behavior, the innkeeper suddenly had a terrible thought and shuddered. Days ago, he had guaranteed to Batu, beating his chest, that Gu Pingyuan was definitely still at the inn and hadn’t left. But now, seeing Liu Heita’s demeanor, adamantly refusing to let anyone upstairs, not even a doctor, what if…

The innkeeper dared not think further. If, as he suspected, Gu Pingyuan had fled, the punishment from Master Batu would be unbearable.

“Impossible. I must enter the room to check. You’re staying at my inn. If something goes wrong, how will my business survive?” The innkeeper seized this excuse and tried to push his way up.

Liu Heita couldn’t let him pass. He grabbed the innkeeper’s shoulders and gently pushed him back. Though he didn’t use much strength, the innkeeper flew backward as if hit by a battering ram, staggering back more than ten steps. Losing his balance, he knocked over the offering table in front of the God of Wealth statue. The incense burner fell to the ground, sending up a cloud of ash that covered his head and face, making him look like Jiang Gan from “Assembly of Heroes,” covered in dust.

“How dare you strike someone!” he cried.

“Strike you? Striking you would be mild! Whoever disturbs Master Gu’s recovery will face my wrath!” Liu Heita snapped back.

Someone had already rushed to inform Old Qi, who hurried over, repeatedly trying to mediate. But the innkeeper, now suspicious, felt that letting things go quietly was unacceptable. If the person truly wasn’t in the room, he would have no way to account for it later. So he shouted, “Someone come here! Break through upstairs!”

Those who came were just cooks and waiters. Liu Heita hardly considered them worth noticing. He tossed them one by one—one came up, one went down; two came up, two went down. In no time, the courtyard was filled with groaning inn attendants.

“Fine then! You’re nothing but bandits! Wait here, I’m going to report this to the authorities!” The innkeeper stormed out in a rage.

“You see? We could have talked things out calmly. Now it’s come to this. What can we do? If officials really come, how can we still prevent them from going upstairs?” Old Qi was so anxious he nearly fainted. The other assistants, including Sun Er, were also confused. Master Gu was just ill, not turned into a monster. Why wouldn’t they let anyone enter to check on him?

Liu Heita frowned and touched the chain whip at his waist. “No matter who comes, I’ll give them a good lashing.”

“Nonsense! If you hit officials, you’ll really be labeled rebellious bandits!” Old Qi’s chest heaved with anger. At his wit’s end, he looked up to the heavens and prayed silently, “Master Gu, Master Gu, where have you gone? If you don’t return soon, the sky will collapse!”

Chang Yu’er rode her horse to the Ulan pasture, forty li northwest of Niudu Valley. From far away, she could hear joyful cheering. She knew it must be the Nadam alliance meeting in progress, and the prince must be there. Her heart finally eased somewhat.

Because the princes from both southern and northern Mongolia, as well as imperial envoys, were gathered there, security around Ulan pasture was extremely tight. Ordinary people were not allowed within ten li of the venue. As soon as Chang Yu’er reached the edge of the restricted zone, soldiers with long spears stopped her.

“I truly have an urgent matter. Please let me through,” Chang Yu’er pleaded until her mouth was parched, but the soldiers, bound by military orders, dared not let her pass.

Chang Yu’er didn’t dare dismount to explain the situation. Who knew what rules the Mongolian military followed? If they took her aside for questioning, she would certainly miss her chance to complete her important mission.

Seeing the soldiers refusing to let her through, Chang Yu’er had no choice. Steeling herself, she reached up and removed her fur hat, letting her long hair cascade down her shoulders. The soldiers blocking her way were startled to discover that this slender rider was actually a woman—and a pretty Han Chinese girl at that. They were all momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of their surprise, Chang Yu’er shook the reins, pressed her legs against the horse’s flanks, and her gray dappled horse leaped forward, breaking through the checkpoint.

Mongolian soldiers were excellent archers. They immediately bent their bows and nocked arrows. Normally, Chang Yu’er couldn’t have escaped, but the soldiers hesitated repeatedly and couldn’t release their strings. There was no other reason except that Chang Yu’er was a woman. The Mongolians all considered themselves descendants of Genghis Khan—how could they shoot arrows at a woman’s back?

In that moment of hesitation, Chang Yu’er had broken through the checkpoint. When Liu Heita had wanted to deliver the message in Bayan Lege and Chang Yu’er had stopped him, she had been right to do so. In this situation, if Liu Heita had tried to break through, he would have become like Yang Qilang in Pan Renmei’s camp—certainly shot dead by a volley of arrows.

After rushing through the checkpoint and running about a hundred yards, Chang Yu’er heard rapid hoofbeats behind her. Looking back, she saw that the patrol officer had indeed led men in pursuit, blowing copper horns as they chased, alerting those ahead that someone had broken into the camp.

The gray dappled horse, exhausted from many days of travel, was already at the end of its strength. After struggling to gallop a short distance, it fell further and further behind the pursuing soldiers. Chang Yu’er grew anxious. Looking ahead, she saw that patrol cavalry, having received the signal, were also rushing toward her. Once the forces from both sides surrounded her, she would have no choice but to surrender.

Chang Yu’er wasn’t afraid of being caught, but she feared that such a delay would postpone her audience with the prince until who knew when. Thinking of this, Chang Yu’er turned her horse’s head and charged diagonally in a random direction. Ahead was a large open space surrounded by white cloth screens standing taller than a man. The white cloth enclosure stretched for several hundred meters, secured by wooden stakes—it appeared to be a temporary martial arts arena.

Outside the white cloth walls, heavily armored warriors with long spears stood guard every five paces. When they saw Chang Yu’er charging toward them with patrol cavalry in pursuit, these warriors showed no mercy, thrusting their spears toward her horse’s head.

Chang Yu’er was shocked and pulled up on the reins. The dappled gray horse, divinely inspired, leapt with all its might, avoided the spears, and jumped over the enclosure wall.

Once over, her view suddenly expanded. Chang Yu’er could see clearly that this was a parade ground currently hosting an archery competition. Over a distance of more than two hundred meters, archers and targets stood on opposite sides, with apparently more than a dozen competitors.

This wasn’t particularly remarkable, but what caught Chang Yu’er’s attention was a viewing platform on the side between the archers and targets. It was covered with silken canopies, with tiger-skin chairs below. The tables were laden with exotic fruits and fine wines. Handsome servants poured wine on both sides, strong guards stood watch behind, and in the center sat several imposing dignitaries dressed in python-patterned robes.

Chang Yu’er guessed these might be the princes, or if not, certainly high officials. Looking around, she saw soldiers swarming in from outside. With nowhere to escape, she figured it was better to approach the highest authority than be captured by underlings.

Chang Yu’er had been sparing with her whip throughout the journey, concerned for her horse’s strength. But now she couldn’t afford such consideration. She used all her might to crack the whip hard. The dappled gray horse let out a long neigh and charged straight toward the viewing platform.

Though it happened quickly, much had transpired in the parade ground during those few blinks. Everyone on the viewing platform had noticed someone breaking in, and all were startled.

Chang Yu’er had guessed correctly—the princes from southern and northern Mongolia, along with imperial officials sent to mediate the conflicts, were seated watching the competition. There were three princes from southern Mongolia and only one, the Prince of Keerkek, from the north. Their hostilities had just been suspended, and no one expected such a disruption at the Nadam alliance ceremony. These men, accustomed to scheming against each other, immediately grew suspicious of one another. The worst fear was that no feast is ever truly peaceful—what if this turned into an ambush like the Hongmen Banquet? That would be disastrous.

The Prince of Keerkek, believing preparation is key, had quietly picked up a set of gold-inlaid bow and arrows beside him, ready to strike if the situation turned unfavorable.

While those on the platform were suspecting each other, the archers below were drawing their bows and nocking arrows for the next round. The competition used drum signals to ensure fairness. The drummer wasn’t inside the enclosure but outside the white cloth barrier. Three drum beats were given, and archers had to release their arrows between the first beat and the end of the third—any later would be invalid.

The drummer, unaware of the situation, continued beating in the established rhythm. The archers had all seen Chang Yu’er galloping into the field, but before they could react, the drums had already begun.

“Boom! BOOM!! BOOM!!!”

As Chang Yu’er crossed the field, there was a high risk of being hit by the archers’ arrows. In normal times, the archers might have held their fire, but today was different. Half the archers were northerners, half southerners. Just days ago, they had been fighting to the death, with friends and brothers lost on both sides. Meeting face to face, their eyes were bloodshot with hatred, each wishing to shoot the other. How could they willingly lose to their opponents? Moreover, their princes’ honor was at stake, so they dared not act arbitrarily.

With the final drumbeat, more than a dozen archers released their arrows simultaneously. The arrows shot toward the targets like meteors and lightning, and one flew straight at Chang Yu’er!

From two hundred meters, using bows with a draw weight of over five stone, the archers not only had excellent aim but arms that could exert a thousand-jun force. Being hit would surely result in death! Everyone in the field saw this but could do nothing except watch the scene unfold.

Chang Yu’er also saw it from the corner of her eye, but it was too late to dodge. She didn’t even have time to close her eyes. Her heart sank—after traveling over mountains and rivers to reach this place, all would be lost.

In that lightning-fast moment came a loud “clang” with sparks flying. The dappled gray horse was startled, rearing up on its hind legs. Chang Yu’er, already distracted, was caught off guard by this sudden movement and couldn’t maintain her seat. With a “thud,” she tumbled from the horse.

For a moment, everyone in the field looked at each other in confusion, not knowing what had happened.

Only the Prince of Keerkek knew. He had picked up his bow and arrow as a precaution, but seeing that the southern princes were genuinely surprised, not pretending, and that the intruder was so reckless as to cross the field while archers were shooting—practically suicidal—it seemed unlikely there was any plot involved. So at the last moment, he had fired an arrow to knock down the archer’s shaft, saving Chang Yu’er’s life.

When people realized what had happened, thunderous cheers erupted. Everyone already knew the Prince of Keerkek was a master archer, but they hadn’t expected his skill to be so divine—not only did he have the thousand-jin strength in his arms to draw a powerful bow and shoot faster than others, but his accuracy was unparalleled. Thus, everyone cheered “Baturu!” which means “warrior” in Mongolian.

Mongolians most respect warriors. Seeing the Prince of Keerkek’s prowess, the southern princes couldn’t help but admire him, raising their cups in respect. By this time, the Prince of Keerkek was quite pleased with himself and, without declining, raised his cup and drank.

After drinking three cups, he remembered the person still in the field. Seeing that Chang Yu’er hadn’t yet gotten up, he rose and walked over.

The archery competition had naturally stopped. When the Prince of Keerkek approached Chang Yu’er, he was surprised. Earlier, his attention had been focused on his fellow diners, and he hadn’t noticed that he had saved a beautiful young woman, who appeared to be Han Chinese rather than Mongolian.

“Hmm?” The prince was puzzled. Seeing Chang Yu’er unconscious, he quickly called over the military doctor. After examination, the doctor reported: “Your Highness, this woman seems to have hit her head when falling from the horse, hence her unconsciousness. As for when she’ll wake, that depends on her care.”

“I see,” the prince nodded, about to speak when the doctor added, “Your Highness, she keeps mumbling something. I don’t understand Han language, so I can’t make it out clearly.”

The Prince of Keerkek had lived in Beijing with his father for some time in his youth and understood Chinese fluently. Hearing the doctor’s words, he bent down slightly. Indeed, though unconscious, Chang Yu’er was weakly repeating a few words. The prince listened carefully and heard her saying: “Ukedo… epidemic… medicine…”

After hearing this, the prince drew a sharp breath. The successful cessation of hostilities between northern and southern Mongolia was partly due to imperial mediation, but also because he had been concerned about the epidemic in his rear territories. He didn’t want to prolong the war, so during negotiations, the north had made many concessions. Once peace was established, the epidemic became the prince’s primary concern. Now, hearing these words from the lips of a mysteriously arrived Han girl who had crashed into the field, the prince felt inexplicably anxious.

“Come, take her to my main tent and find someone to care for her properly. Report to me immediately when she wakes.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Also, I will now bid farewell to the southern princes. I won’t return with the main army but will depart tonight with a light escort back to Bayan Lege.”

“Yes, Your Highness. May I ask, shall we bring this woman along?”

The Prince of Keerkek hesitated briefly: “Prepare a carriage. Whether she wakes or not, she comes with me!”

Gu Pingyuan and Qiao Songnian hid in a dark alley next to the inn, watching the innkeeper rush out. Though they didn’t know where he was going, since only their caravan was staying at the inn, something must have happened.

The two exchanged glances, and Qiao Songnian said, “Master Gu, we’ve been circling here half the day but can’t get in. The Mongolian soldiers are guarding too strictly.”

Gu Pingyuan frowned in thought, then suddenly smiled: “We can only wait for an opportunity.”

“Just wait?” Qiao Songnian asked anxiously.

Gu Pingyuan remained calm and asked, “We’ve traveled together for a month, and I only know your name but not your age. I’d guess you’re a few years older than me.”

Qiao Songnian was surprised that Gu Pingyuan would make small talk at such a critical moment, but replied, “I was born in the tenth year of Daoguang.”

Gu Pingyuan nodded: “That makes you eight years older than me. I wouldn’t have guessed you’re already over thirty.”

“Hmph, thirty? My studies aren’t complete, my name isn’t established—’thirty’ is just two slaps across my face,” Qiao Songnian suddenly lamented.

His complaint didn’t surprise Gu Pingyuan, who smiled: “After a few days together, I’ve realized you’re no ordinary assistant.” He then recounted how the Xuanji Hall assistants had unanimously “recommended” him for this journey.

Qiao Songnian smiled wryly: “I suspected as much. They’d be happy if I died in Mongolia.”

“Why is that?”

“How could sparrows understand the ambitions of a swan? They can’t tolerate a swan having ambitions, or wouldn’t it highlight their own pettiness?” Qiao Songnian rolled his eyes disdainfully.

As they continued talking, Gu Pingyuan learned that Qiao Songnian held a xiucai degree. However, he had repeatedly failed the provincial examination. In his hometown of Qi County, where commerce was valued over scholarship, his family was poor, yet he was determined to study, leaving them without food even for the next day, forcing them to borrow. Over time, his wife and neighbors showed their displeasure. Eventually, his wife had begged someone to find him a position as an assistant at Xuanji Hall, but he felt uncomfortable among businessmen who cared only for profit. He avoided socializing and in his spare time would read the Confucian classics wrapped in medical book covers. As time passed, he had earned the dislike of all his fellow assistants.

“The current world has little room for scholarly talent, but Heaven creates each of us for a purpose. Brother Qiao, though temporarily in difficulty, need not dwell on it.”

“Brother Qiao?” Qiao Songnian looked up, puzzled.

“To be honest, I once studied too. Though I didn’t complete my education, I still respect scholars. Though you work for merchants, you haven’t forgotten the classics. Your current circumstances fulfill Mencius’s saying, ‘Heaven, when about to place a great responsibility on a great man,’ you will surely achieve greatness in the future.” Gu Pingyuan spoke with sincerity.

Perhaps since becoming an assistant under such humiliating circumstances, Qiao Songnian hadn’t heard such sympathetic words. He was suddenly overcome with emotion, tears slowly streaming from the corners of his eyes.

Just as Gu Pingyuan was about to offer more comfort, they heard the clamor of a large cavalry unit from around the corner. Looking up, his heart tightened immediately.

The furious innkeeper had run to Batu’s mansion to report. He dared not say much, only that the caravan members wouldn’t allow the prince’s mansion physician to enter Gu Pingyuan’s room. Just this one sentence was enough to give Batu much to think about.

Commander Duo Shan was also present. After Batu dismissed the innkeeper, Duo Shan slammed the table: “I don’t understand why, when we were at Black Water Marsh, we didn’t just rob them. We could have taken the medicine, thrown the bodies into the swamp, and no one would have known. You insisted on bringing them to Ukedo.”

“I wanted to spread some ashes to blind outsiders’ eyes, letting everyone in the prince’s city know that buying medicine from Shanxi was real, and to prevent suspicions and questions about the accounts later.”

“Hmph. That’s all future talk. What about now? From the innkeeper’s words, he also suspects their leader has fled.”

“At this point, there’s no other option.” Batu had searched for three days, examining every Mongolian yurt in Bayan Lege and the surrounding satellite towns and pastures, yet couldn’t find the feather grass. He was boiling with anger and had no patience left. He decided to resolve the Shanxi caravan matter that night to prevent any further complications.

“You shouldn’t appear personally for this,” Batu said. “Lend me a squad of soldiers. I’ll take a physician and go to the inn now. Whether they allow it or not, we must examine him. If he has truly fled, we’ll use this pretext to claim they intended to deceive us, reveal our official identity, and confiscate their medicine.”

“And if he hasn’t fled?” Duo Shan added.

“Even better. They must sell the medicine tonight. If they won’t sell, I’ll take it by force!” Batu said through clenched teeth. Initially, he hadn’t wanted to do this because, although Ukedo was a satellite town, it was very close to the prince’s city, and such actions might cause trouble if word spread. But now he hardened his heart, deciding not to wait for the caravan to surrender.

Duo Shan nodded with satisfaction: “If you had thought this way earlier, it wouldn’t have dragged on so long, resulting in the loss of one medicinal ingredient. You resolve the Five-finger Gentian matter first, and I’ll deploy more troops to comb through the area three times like a fine-toothed comb. Even if the feather grass is hidden underground, I’ll dig it out!”

Having agreed on their plan, Batu led men to the inn. This time they made quite a show, bringing not just infantry but cavalry. The sounds of hoofbeats, clanking weapons, voices, and neighing horses could be heard from far away.

Old Qi, though experienced in traveling western passes, had never directly confronted officials. Faced with this situation, he was at his wit’s end, anxiously pacing back and forth.

Liu Heita, however, paid no mind to such concerns. He stood guard at the stairs, determined that today, no matter who tried to enter Gu Pingyuan’s room, they would first have to face his nine-section chain whip.

Batu dismounted at the inn’s entrance and stormed in with his men, immediately seeing Liu Heita staring at him like a fierce deity. Ignoring this brute for now, he addressed Old Qi: “Where is your caravan leader? That Gu fellow—tell him to come see me!”

Old Qi smiled ingratiatingly: “Lord Batu, Master Gu fell seriously ill upon arrival. The doctor said he must avoid drafts—any exposure would cause relapse, which is why he’s been bedridden for so long. He’s almost recovered. Please grant us a few more days.”

“The lord doesn’t have that time,” Batu said irritably. “You say the doctor told him to avoid drafts. Well, I’ve brought an excellent physician now to examine Master Gu.” He gestured to the court physician behind him.

The physician, having never seen such a confrontation in his life of treating patients, stared at Liu Heita’s unwavering gaze, swallowed hard, and didn’t dare move.

“What’s this?” Batu flew into a rage and waved to his troops. “Seize him!”

The soldiers rushed forward to grab Liu Heita. Liu Heita had been frustrated for days and finally found an outlet for his anger. He strode forward, taking a position of advantage on higher ground. His chain whip whistled through the air, creating an impenetrable defense. Several soldiers tried to thrust their spears, only to have them caught by the chain whip and sent flying.

This wasn’t a battle to the death—who would risk their life? Moreover, their military commander wasn’t present, and Batu wasn’t a military man. The soldiers had no desire to take risks for him and gradually retreated.

Seeing this, Batu grew more agitated. He took out a banknote from his robe and shouted, “Whoever restrains him, I’ll reward with a hundred taels of silver!”

Great rewards breed brave men, and some fearless souls prepared to charge forward. Old Qi on the side saw through Batu’s intentions clearly. He obviously wanted Liu Heita to kill a soldier, which would constitute a serious crime. Then, without needing any excuses, he could confiscate their goods and expel the caravan back to Shanxi.

Though Old Qi understood, it was useless. He couldn’t stop Liu Heita, much less deal with Batu. Watching helplessly as the soldiers rushed up, he closed his eyes and thought, “It’s over. Everything’s ruined—crossing the Dry Water River, navigating Black Water Marsh—all wasted. This deal has completely fallen apart!”

At this crucial moment, a voice suddenly came from upstairs: “Wait! Master Gu says he invites Lord Batu up.”

By this point, Liu Heita wouldn’t listen to anyone. His eyes were already red with anger. Yet upon hearing this voice, his whip stopped spinning, his anger subsided, and he turned with a dumbfounded expression.

The speaker was none other than Qiao Songnian, who had left with Gu Pingyuan. He stood at the top of the stairs, half-emerging from Gu Pingyuan’s room to deliver this message.

Old Qi was also so surprised he nearly fell on his backside. Gu Pingyuan had been gone for many days with this assistant—how had he suddenly appeared from the room? And from his words, it seemed Gu Pingyuan had returned too. What was going on?

But there was no time for questions, especially with Batu present. Old Qi walked over and tugged at Liu Heita’s clothes, giving him a fierce glare.

Liu Heita trudged slowly down the stairs, scratching the back of his head and muttering, “What kind of disappearing-reappearing trick is Brother Gu playing?”

Batu didn’t care about any of this. Not knowing the inside story, he saw only that Gu Pingyuan had ordered Liu Heita to stand down. Eagerly, he led the physician upstairs.

Entering the room, they saw Gu Pingyuan lying on his back in bed, eyes half-closed, looking truly exhausted. Batu gave a signal, and the physician approached without a word, first taking Gu Pingyuan’s pulse. After a moment, he released his wrist and went to Batu’s side, whispering, “This man indeed suffered from poisoning and was seriously ill some days ago. He’s not pretending. The residual toxins haven’t yet cleared from his body.”

“Hmm.” With this confirmed, Batu relaxed and softened his expression. “Master Gu, this business has dragged on for too long. Even though you’re still unwell, we can’t delay any further. Will you sell or not?”

“Well…” Gu Pingyuan lay in bed, struggling to half-raise himself, his face showing reluctance.

“Let me tell you, if you don’t sell, I have other methods. Don’t regret it later!” Batu threatened.

Gu Pingyuan didn’t answer immediately. After a long while, he sighed, appearing heartbroken: “Fine, we can’t afford to delay either. I’ll sell!”

“That’s more like it. ‘The wise know when to yield’—come, sign and press your seal. Let’s complete the transaction. I’ve brought men to move the goods right away.” Hearing Gu Pingyuan’s agreement, Batu immediately showed a satisfied smile and pulled a fifty-tael banknote from his sleeve, placing it on the table.

By now, Old Qi and Liu Heita had come upstairs and were watching from the doorway. Seeing Gu Pingyuan about to conclude the deal with Batu for fifty taels, Liu Heita opened his mouth to shout, but Old Qi was quicker and covered his mouth.

“Don’t shout. I suspect there’s more to this—just follow Master Gu’s lead.”

“Alas,” Gu Pingyuan made a sorrowful face inside the room, “Lord Batu, you’ve pulled the ladder up after you climbed over the wall. I won’t even have money to pay for a doctor now.”

Batu laughed heartily: “What are you saying, Master Gu? I’m already being considerate. Truthfully, I no longer need these goods, but considering you’ve traveled thousands of li to get here, I’m reluctantly accepting them. You Han people have a saying—’a dog biting Lü Dongbin, not recognizing a good person’s heart.’ Master Gu, you’re wronging me.”

“Yes, yes,” Gu Pingyuan deliberately acted outraged but fearful. “So, shall we complete the transaction now?”

“Of course. My men are waiting outside. Once Master Gu takes the banknote, I’ll transport the goods.”

Gu Pingyuan took the banknote, his hand trembling slightly as he signed and sealed the document. Batu took the document, examined it, bowed slightly and said, “This has been a tiring journey for Master Gu. Until we meet again.”

Gu Pingyuan stared at the banknote in his hand as if he hadn’t heard. Batu smiled smugly. When he passed Liu Heita at the door, he said in a clearly audible voice, “A bunch of cowards!” Then he mounted his horse and rode away, leaving his attendants to transport the medicine packages.

Liu Heita trembled with rage. If Old Qi hadn’t restrained him, he would have immediately fought Batu to the death. After Batu’s men had emptied the goods and returned down the street, and the inn’s people had dispersed, Old Qi approached Gu Pingyuan. Just as he was about to speak, Gu Pingyuan threw off his blanket and jumped up from the bed. Now he appeared vigorous and spirited, completely unlike his earlier “cowardly appearance”!

Old Qi, first frightened by Liu Heita earlier in the evening and now shocked by Gu Pingyuan, felt his heart racing up and down. He finally stammered, “Master Gu, what exactly is going on? Can you explain it clearly to this old man?”

Meanwhile, Liu Heita grabbed Qiao Songnian: “How did you two get in?”

Gu Pingyuan smiled. Being cautious, although he expected that after the transaction the inn’s staff would no longer monitor the caravan, he first sent Qiao Songnian to keep watch outside the door. Only then did he invite Old Qi and Liu Heita to sit at the table.

“Elder Qi, Brother Liu, I’m truly sorry for causing you such alarm.”

Liu Heita waved his hand: “I wasn’t scared, but I was nearly worried to death. Brother Gu, tell us first: I was guarding the stairs, soldiers were watching the main gate—how on earth did you get in?”

“I owe it all to you.”

“To me?” Liu Heita was completely puzzled. Looking at Gu Pingyuan’s expression, which didn’t seem to be joking, he was even more confused.

“Actually, Qiao Songnian and I had been waiting outside the inn for quite some time but couldn’t find an opportunity to enter. We had planned to bribe the delivery carts bringing rice, flour, and vegetables tomorrow to smuggle us in. But unexpectedly, Batu arrived urgently with soldiers, and I knew we were in trouble. With Batu’s arrival, he would insist on seeing me, which would expose everything. What I didn’t anticipate was that when Brother Liu started swinging his whip, it attracted a crowd of onlookers—even the soldiers guarding outside the wall came to watch the commotion. Qiao Songnian and I took the opportunity to crawl through a dog hole, then found a ladder and entered the second-floor room through the window. Isn’t that all thanks to Brother Liu!”

After Gu Pingyuan’s explanation, Liu Heita and Old Qi finally understood. Liu Heita was quite pleased with himself and nudged Old Qi: “Hey, did you hear that? I even contributed to the mission.”

Old Qi couldn’t smile. His mind was still revolving around business matters, and he asked directly: “Master Gu, you’ve sold the medicine to Batu for fifty taels. Aren’t we still coming up empty-handed?”

At this question, Liu Heita also quieted down, staring at Gu Pingyuan.

Gu Pingyuan shook his head, took out the fifty-tael banknote, and slapped it on the table: “If he thinks this note can pay for the goods, he’s daydreaming!”

“Then…”

“Don’t ask anymore. Batu may have left satisfied, but soon I’ll make him cry without even finding a grave to weep over!”

“But…” Old Qi suddenly realized, “So Master Gu already has a brilliant plan.”

“I wouldn’t call it brilliant, but I will need your help, Elder. Success or failure will be determined today. If all goes smoothly, I guarantee Batu’s dream of getting rich won’t last beyond tonight.”

Old Qi understood the gravity of the situation and solemnly accepted the mission. By now, the soldier sentries outside the inn had been withdrawn, and caravan members could come and go freely. Gu Pingyuan summoned Sun Er, instructing him to take several capable assistants to the dock at the edge of Ukedo city, hire three ferries on the Wonan River, and wait there for further instructions.

Just after Sun Er left with his men, Gu Pingyuan said: “Brother Liu, take a few men and scout around the vicinity to see if any of Batu’s men are still searching the streets. I’ll wait for you here—go quickly and return quickly.”

Liu Heita took several men, mounted camels, and circled the streets and alleys a few times. Seeing that all was peaceful, he returned to report: “Those bastards are nowhere to be seen!”

Gu Pingyuan had already summoned over a dozen lead assistants from the caravan to his room. Hearing this news, he immediately said: “Good, excellent! Brothers, we now have an important task. If we succeed, we’ll return to Taiyuan with a cartload of silver and glory; if we fail, we’ll return in disgrace. Let me be clear upfront—if we only walk away with this fifty-tael note, I won’t have the face to return and might as well drown myself in the Wonan River.”

Liu Heita raised his arm with a shout: “Brother Gu, you needn’t say that! Fifty taels of silver is an insult to death. I have unfinished business with Batu—even if I jump into the river, I’ll drag him in with me!”

Only then did the dozen or so assistants in the room realize they had been cheated in this deal, and an uproar ensued. Everyone had known this was a profitable assignment, so before departing, many had made promises and some had even borrowed money to buy houses and land. Now facing failure, it wasn’t just about losing face—the debt collectors alone could drive them to death. Fortunately, during the journey, Gu Pingyuan had won the hearts of the caravan. The assistants knew this Master Gu was both brave and resourceful. After a brief moment of panic, they quieted down, looking expectantly at Gu Pingyuan, waiting for his plan.

After the caravan assistants settled down, Gu Pingyuan’s expression suddenly darkened. He straightened up and spoke with a gravity no one had heard from him before: “Brothers, you heard correctly. The one doing business with us this time isn’t human but a wolf. How did we transport these medicines to Mongolia? You all know—we paid with our lives! Now he thinks he can dismiss us with fifty taels. He’s purely dreaming! Forget fifty taels, of the agreed six thousand taels of silver, even if he’s short by one tael, I absolutely won’t agree!”

“That’s right, we absolutely won’t agree!”

“Master Gu, just tell us what to do. We brothers will follow you!”

The caravan assistants were inflamed by Gu Pingyuan’s words. Their eyes grew red with anger. If Batu had been present, they would have torn him apart alive.

Gu Pingyuan capitalized on the momentum and added fuel to the fire: “Moreover, this isn’t just about money. If we fail this time, people won’t say anything specific about us; they’ll say Shanxi merchants are cowards. If we don’t regain our dignity, how can Shanxi merchants ever stand in Mongolia again?”

Old ginger is indeed spicier. Old Qi listened with a deep frown, not understanding what Gu Pingyuan was trying to accomplish. Continuously inciting anger like this—was he trying to mobilize the caravan to attack Batu? That would be unwise. As the caravan’s lead assistant, he bore significant responsibility for their safety and felt he needed to speak up. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Gu Pingyuan, as if prescient, addressed him first: “Elder Qi, rest assured, Batu has troops at his disposal. Unless absolutely necessary, we won’t resort to brute force.”

Saying this, he passed something to Old Qi, who took it and saw it was half a copper coin. Confused, he stared at Gu Pingyuan.

“Elder Qi, I’ve stored some goods in the military camp’s stables. Take this half coin and find a stableman called Old Stone in the stables—he’ll hand over the goods to you. What I need you to do is immediately lead the caravan to transport these goods from the military camp to the ferry dock, meet up with Sun Er, and then without any delay, load all the goods onto the boats. Meanwhile, Brother Liu and I will head straight to the dock. We’ll meet you there.”

Old Qi was now completely confused: “What… what goods are these? Where did they come from? What are they?”

“Goods that could cost Batu his life.” Gu Pingyuan smiled gently, patting Old Qi’s shoulder. “Time is of the essence now—there’s no time for details. After we succeed, I’ll happily chat with you for three days and three nights.”

Old Qi, unable to make sense of it all, simply stopped asking. The caravan assistants followed Old Qi’s instructions, leading the camels out and preparing to depart.

This demonstrated Gu Pingyuan’s leadership skills throughout the journey. If he hadn’t been generous and skilled at building relationships, winning the hearts of the caravan members, they would now be in chaos, not obediently following his directions.

Gu Pingyuan and Liu Heita took two camels, and as soon as the caravan departed, they shook their reins and rode toward the dock.

Being straightforward, Liu Heita never kept thoughts bottled up. While riding, he asked: “Brother Gu, what exactly are these goods you’ve sent Old Qi to retrieve?”

Gu Pingyuan’s expression was solemn, obviously deep in thought. Liu Heita called three times before he finally answered: “It’s another ingredient from the precious prescription. I’ve bought up all of this herb in the vicinity.”

“Now I’m really confused,” Liu Heita puzzled. “We came to Mongolia to sell medicine, but now the deal has fallen through—we’ve almost lost our entire investment. Why are you still buying medicine? And why did you buy up all that herb? What’s the purpose?”

Gu Pingyuan, despite his preoccupation, couldn’t help smiling: “Brother Liu, you’ve already said it all—why are you still asking me?”

“What?”

“You just said it yourself—I’ve bought up all of this herb. That’s the point.”

“How is that the point?”

Gu Pingyuan knew Liu Heita wouldn’t understand without a clear explanation. So while urging his horse forward, he turned his head and said: “You must have heard the phrase ‘rare goods can command their own price.'”

“Yes, I have. When I followed your advice to sell ‘celebratory goods’ in Taiyuan Prefecture and returned, my father mentioned those four words.”

“Though feather grass isn’t valuable, it’s now all in my hands. Anyone who wants to buy it must either purchase from me or, sorry, wait until next spring when the grasslands turn green and new shoots sprout to collect it themselves. As for the price of the feather grass in my possession, I’m not asking for much—I acquired the goods for five hundred taels of silver. Deducting the original cost, whoever brings six thousand taels of silver, I’ll sell to them.”

“Ah!” At this point, Liu Heita finally began to understand. “Brother Gu, you mean to sell these goods to…”

“That’s right, to Batu!”

“Will he buy it?”

“Hehe, he has no choice but to buy.” Gu Pingyuan now revealed a hint of satisfaction. Understandably so—Batu’s sudden aggression had seemed like a death sentence for the caravan, yet Gu Pingyuan had played a brilliant move to turn the tables.

“You must understand, medicinal herbs have value beyond their price. As long as an herb is required by a prescription, missing even one ingredient renders it useless. The reason Batu was so confident was because he relied on the prince’s authority, knowing local pharmacies wouldn’t dare raise prices on him. But we’re different—we must fight him to the end. Batu has been pressing us step by step, thinking victory was assured. He never imagined we would secretly cut off his retreat. This move is called ‘pulling the firewood from under the cauldron.'”

“Batu took our five-finger gentian, so we bought out all the feather grass he needs.” Liu Heita listened with growing delight, his smile now stretching to his cheekbones. “Brilliant! Brother Gu, you’re truly ruthless! But why are we hiring boats?”

By now, they had reached the dock. Gu Pingyuan dismounted, replying: “The boats are for Batu to watch a good show. He thinks he can bully us and get away with it? Today, if I don’t squeeze him for all he’s worth, I’ll write my surname upside down.”

Liu Heita laughed even harder: “Brother Gu, I thought you were a scholar, but when you get angry, you talk just as roughly as us. No question—I’ll assist you, taking the front lines in any charge.”

Gu Pingyuan laughed self-deprecatingly: “Yes, I learned all this in the border garrison among soldiers. I reckon Elder Qi should arrive soon. Brother Liu, there must be a night watchman at the dock. Find him and borrow his bronze gong—I’ll have use for it shortly.”

“On it!” Liu Heita rushed to follow the order.

Gu Pingyuan surveyed the dock. Outside Ukedo city, this was the first major crossing on the Wonan River. It had a wooden pier thirty meters long, with a row of mooring posts. Two substantial ferry boats, each capable of carrying over fifty people, remained at the dock regardless of the hour.

“Master Gu,” Sun Er approached him, “You asked me to hire three large boats, but there are only two large boats at this dock. I’ve sent men to look for fishing boats…”

Gu Pingyuan nodded with satisfaction and waved his hand: “No need. These two boats are sufficient. We’re lucky—in another month, the river will probably freeze over, and this plan of mine would be useless.”

Sun Er nodded, perplexed, but Gu Pingyuan didn’t elaborate, merely looking in the direction from which the caravan should arrive.

After less than half an hour, Old Qi arrived with the caravan. It was remarkable that he had accomplished Gu Pingyuan’s instructions so perfectly in such a short time, though at great physical cost—his hair and beard were disheveled, and despite the biting cold of early morning, hot sweat covered his face and sideburns from urging the camels to run.

Gu Pingyuan stepped forward to take the reins from Old Qi’s hand, saying: “Elder Qi, this performance doesn’t need so many actors. We’ll load these medicines onto the boats, and about a dozen brave fellows will board with me. You should lead the rest and travel through the night toward Southern Mongolia. Let’s agree on a major market town to meet after this matter is concluded.”

Earlier, Gu Pingyuan had deliberately inflamed the caravan assistants, fearing that at the crucial moment, no one would dare board the boats. But now, led by Old Qi, these veterans of the western passes were filled with righteous indignation. Without further encouragement from Gu Pingyuan, they all vied to risk their lives, with little Gao (who had been beaten at Gaotou Camp for breaking rules) taking the lead.

“What are you saying?” Old Qi’s beard quivered as he spoke. “Master Gu, I won’t deceive you. When I retrieved the goods with that half coin and saw these herbs, I guessed eight or nine tenths of your plan. Batu is the prince’s mansion steward with soldiers and authority at his disposal. This time we’re truly snatching meat from a tiger’s mouth.”

Gu Pingyuan nodded: “If he hadn’t pushed us to the breaking point, I wouldn’t have resorted to this ‘pulling the firewood from under the cauldron’ strategy. Now we have no choice but to gamble with our lives again. We dared to cross Black Water Marsh, and I’ll just as readily brave the Wonan River!”

“No!” Old Qi raised his hand with firm resolve. “Now we share the same boat and fate. It makes no sense for you, Master Gu, to repeatedly risk your life while I merely stand by and watch. This time, no matter what you say, I will lead men onto the boat. Please give your instructions, Master Gu.”

This was beyond Gu Pingyuan’s expectations. He wanted to refuse, but seeing that Old Qi had made up his mind and couldn’t be dissuaded with a few words, and with time so pressing, he had no choice but to modify his plan. Gu and Qi would each lead five assistants onto one boat. Liu Heita refused to be left behind—gong in hand, he looked ready to fight anyone who tried to stop him from boarding. Gu Pingyuan had no choice but to add him, placing Liu Heita on his own boat. Then he instructed Sun Er to lead the remaining assistants far away, first taking the main road and then small paths directly toward Southern Mongolia, to avoid being captured as hostages, which would complicate matters.

Moreover, Sun Er had an even more important task. Gu Pingyuan repeatedly emphasized that once they left Bayan Lege territory, he should immediately dispatch several men along different routes to Niudu Valley. They must find Chang Yu’er and inform her of the situation here to prevent her from returning into a trap.

“You must find my little sister, you hear?” Liu Heita stared with his large eyes at Sun Er, who repeatedly assured him before being satisfied.

With all preparations complete, Gu Pingyuan ordered the large boats to stop an arrow’s distance from shore. Liu Heita began beating the gong thunderously. The dock was naturally a busy place, with many early risers doing business, and nearby residents were also attracted by the gong, flocking to the dock to see what was happening.

Batu returned to his mansion with the medicine, feeling very satisfied. He sent someone to inform Commander Duo Shan that the five-finger gentian was secured and that beginning tomorrow, they would focus all efforts on locating the feather grass. After several busy days, having finally resolved the Shanxi caravan matter, he planned to rest well that night. He embraced his newly purchased Han concubine for half the night before falling into deep sleep, only to be awakened by a servant whispering outside his door: “Master, Commander Duo Shan is here and urgently wishes to see you.”

“Hmm?!” Batu’s eyes flew open. Such an urgent late-night visit meant something serious had occurred, without question.

“Ask him to wait. I’ll be right there.”

The servant was about to turn back when Duo Shan’s footsteps approached. Before Batu could rise, Duo Shan forcefully pushed open the door and strode into the room.

“Ah!” The third concubine, wearing only a red silk undershirt with her snow-white legs exposed, was standing on the floor ready to help Batu dress. She hadn’t expected Duo Shan to barge in without announcement and was frightened. She dove onto the bed, covering herself with the blanket, whimpering.

“What are you doing?” Batu was quite angry.

Contrary to his usual lecherous behavior, Duo Shan didn’t even glance at the half-naked concubine. He gave Batu a cold smile: “I’m surprised you still have the heart to sleep with a bare-bottomed woman. Tell me, who did you make the transaction with last night?”

“The Shanxi caravan. What about it?”

“Was it that man surnamed Gu?”

“Yes! He was lying in a sickbed and personally conducted the trade with me.”

“Sickbed? Pah! You’ve been fooled and don’t even know it.”

“What’s going on? You’re making me more confused.” Batu was bewildered, too stunned to be angry, staring blankly at Duo Shan.

“Come with me to meet someone, and you’ll understand.” Duo Shan turned to leave.

Batu didn’t even bother to finish dressing properly, slipping into his shoes and following. Outside, he saw two men kneeling in the courtyard. Looking closer, he recognized both—one was the “Han dog” Wu Gong who had come to report earlier, and the other was the chief shopkeeper of Yannian Hall, one of Bayan Lege’s premier pharmacies.

“What’s this about?” Batu wasn’t stupid. Considering these two men’s identities, he quickly surmised, “Could it be related to the feather grass?”

“At least you understand something!” Duo Shan pointed at Wu Gong. “You, speak!”

Wu Gong kowtowed, feeling somewhat conflicted. He hadn’t expected Commander Duo Shan to confront him directly, knowing his words would offend the chief shopkeeper of Yannian Hall to death.

“Never mind, as long as I please these two superiors, why should I fear a mere chief shopkeeper!” Having made up his mind, Wu Gong kowtowed again and said: “Your humble servant heard that the masters were searching everywhere for feather grass, and I was anxious on your behalf, so I also inquired everywhere. Initially, there was no news, but last night, our pharmacy received a shipment requiring several large carts. I was responsible for this matter and happened to overhear the carters chatting—they had been hired by someone who, in the past few days, had bought up all the feather grass from pharmacies in the area and transported it away.”

By this point, Batu couldn’t contain his impatience and urgently asked: “Who was it?”

“I asked the same question, but the carters didn’t know the identity of the two men, only that they were Han people. I then asked where they had transported the herbs, and…” He paused, glancing sideways at the chief shopkeeper of Yannian Hall. “They told me it had all been taken to Yannian Hall’s warehouse. With great difficulty, I slipped away to report to Lord Batu, but was turned away at the door, told that the lord was resting and not receiving any visitors. With no alternative, I went to the military camp to find Commander Duo Shan.”

“Now you understand?” Duo Shan looked at the chief shopkeeper with a cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “After receiving the report, I took men to Yannian Hall. But the warehouse was already empty, with only scattered bits of feather grass on the ground, proving this man’s words true.”

Batu was utterly stunned. The chief shopkeeper was a well-known figure in Bayan Lege, and though they weren’t close friends, they met frequently. He had never seemed bold enough to cross the prince’s mansion like this.

“Where did you take the feather grass?” Batu pressed closer to the chief shopkeeper, asking viciously.

The chief shopkeeper now regretted his involvement to the point where his intestines turned green. Getting mixed up in this affair for no reason had trapped him. Hearing Batu’s question, he hurriedly replied with a bitter face: “Lord Batu, I’ve been wronged! I didn’t buy this ‘feather grass.'”

“Then who did?”

The chief shopkeeper had already been whipped by Duo Shan at the pharmacy and revealed Gu Pingyuan’s name under duress. Now there was no need to keep it secret. So he explained everything in detail—how Gu Pingyuan had found him, explained the stakes, persuaded him to hide the medicine, and then transported it all away by ox cart.

“Impossible! I just saw him bedridden with illness at the inn. Besides, soldiers guarded the outside of the inn, and our people monitored inside. How could he possibly have left to arrange such a major undertaking?” Batu pinched his own face hard.

“If you ask me, you’ve underestimated this Han man. Didn’t you hear the innkeeper say he hadn’t been seen for many days? He must have used the ‘golden cicada shedding its shell’ tactic. If he could slip out quietly, he could certainly return to the inn unnoticed after completing his business.” Duo Shan, being a military commander, analyzed Gu Pingyuan’s actions with remarkable accuracy after hearing what had happened.

Batu had considered himself infallible, yet he’d been outmaneuvered by a young man. Furiously, he grabbed the chief shopkeeper’s collar and yanked him upright: “I don’t care about any of that. I only ask you, where are the herbs?”

The chief shopkeeper, nearly choked by his grip, struggled desperately to loosen it somewhat. With trembling lips, he answered: “This I truly don’t know. A few days ago when you were searching the city, he drove two ox carts and transported the herbs away. Since then, I haven’t seen him and don’t know the whereabouts of the medicine.”

“Why ask him?” Duo Shan interjected. “Go to the inn and question that Gu fellow, and we’ll know everything!”

“Right!” Like someone awakened from a dream, Batu cursed his own stupidity. What better time to find Gu Pingyuan than now? He hurriedly said: “There’s a big fellow in that caravan who wields a chain whip. He looks difficult to handle.”

“No matter, I’ll go with you!” Duo Shan, knowing the situation had reached a critical point, called his personal guard unit to follow. The group raced like lightning to the inn.

After all the commotion of half the night, dawn had broken. The inn’s early shift attendant had just come out to extinguish the lanterns when suddenly a squad of horsemen galloped up, frightening him backward several steps until he sat down on the stone steps.

Batu and Duo Shan ignored him, dismounted, pushed open the main door, and entered directly. The innkeeper was still asleep when Duo Shan grabbed him from his dream.

“Where’s the caravan? Where are the Shanxi caravan people?”

The innkeeper trembled with fear, thinking robbers had come. Only when he recognized Batu’s group did he stammer: “Didn’t you say the deal was done, and they could leave if they wanted to, that we needn’t worry about them anymore?”

“They left?”

“Yes, probably about two hours ago. They settled their bill late into the night, and I had just fallen asleep.”

Batu and Duo Shan looked at each other, both thinking the same word: “Pursue!”

But how many men to send in pursuit? Which road to follow? Before they could finish discussing, someone ran in from outside to report: “Master, please go to the riverside quickly! Something serious has happened!”

Less than half an hour later, Batu arrived at the dock with a squad of soldiers, furious and agitated. Looking up, he saw Gu Pingyuan standing on the bow of a boat with his arms folded, watching him calmly.

“Gu, do you no longer value your life? You must know this is Prince Keerkek’s territory. Do you, a mere Shanxi merchant, dare to oppose the prince’s mansion?” Seeing Gu Pingyuan’s stance, Batu knew this wouldn’t end well. He tried to seize the initiative, hoping to intimidate the opponent.

Gu Pingyuan remained composed and cupped his hands in greeting: “Lord Batu, since you’ve come, someone must have relayed what I just said. Now, before all these people at the riverbank, young and old, let me ask: was what I said correct?”

“What you said is all nonsense!” Batu snarled viciously. Earlier, Gu Pingyuan had detailed to the crowd how Batu had reduced the agreed price from six thousand taels to fifty, intending to pocket the difference, which had forced Gu Pingyuan to buy up the feather grass and compel Batu to negotiate. He had told this complete story to the common people at the dock and asked the “Mongolian elders and neighbors to uphold justice.”

Gu Pingyuan had guessed correctly—the prince knew nothing of Batu’s actions. Batu had relied on the prince being far away at the front lines to act so boldly. He had assumed that if he could prepare the medicine before the prince’s return, all would be well. He never expected Gu Pingyuan’s unusual strategy, which not only exposed him publicly but also forced him to come out and confront the accusations. Yet Batu dared not admit a single word of what Gu Pingyuan said. With so many people at the riverbank, if he confessed and the prince later heard even a whisper of it, he would be reduced to powder on the spot.

“Enough talk. Gu, just tell me what you want to do,” Batu stared at Gu Pingyuan. If his gaze had been a knife, Gu Pingyuan would already have transparent holes all over his body.

Hearing the question, Gu Pingyuan unhurriedly asked back: “What do I want to do?” Then with a faint smile, he squatted down, pulled a handful of feather grass from a pre-opened package, held it in his hand, and rolled it slowly between his fingers. Then he raised it toward Batu: “Lord Batu, we previously conducted a transaction. In business, there are gains and losses. Since the deal is done, there’s no need to mention it again. However, there is one item I still wish to sell to you.”

“What item?” Though knowing what Gu Pingyuan meant, Batu couldn’t help asking.

“These two boatloads of feather grass. It’s excellent medicine—cooling the blood, reducing heat, nourishing yin, and benefiting the lungs.”

He spoke leisurely, while Batu ground his teeth in hatred, knowing he couldn’t refuse to buy. Batu thought to himself that once he lured them ashore, he would deal with them slowly. “Fine, I’ll buy it. Transport the herbs ashore.”

Gu Pingyuan consistently maintained an unhurried manner: “Lord Batu, truly befitting the prince’s mansion steward—you buy things without even asking the price?”

Batu struggled to contain his anger: “How much?”

“No retail sales.” Gu Pingyuan raised one finger, fixing his gaze on Batu. “These two boatloads together—ten thousand taels of silver!”

“What?!” Not just the common people on the dock, but even the caravan assistants were startled. Even Old Qi’s mouth fell open. No one had expected Gu Pingyuan to make such an exorbitant demand.

Batu was even more enraged, shouting: “You destitute son of a turtle! Two boatloads of feather grass are worth at most three or four hundred taels of silver.”

“That’s true. But may I ask the steward, an entire caravan of premium Kelan five-finger gentian costs at least three thousand taels—why did you only give fifty taels this morning?” Gu Pingyuan’s response was perfectly pointed, immediately silencing Batu.

“Well asked!” Liu Heita struck the gong beside him, feeling immensely satisfied.

By now, Batu knew his original scheme had failed, and he felt deeply frustrated. Unwilling to concede, he shouted: “What if I don’t buy? Are you going to stay on the river for a lifetime?”

“Don’t buy?” Gu Pingyuan laughed coldly. “To be honest, I wouldn’t sell these two boatloads to anyone else even if they wanted to buy. If you’re unwilling to part with your money, hmph… Brother Liu!”

The two had planned this in advance. Hearing Gu Pingyuan’s signal, Liu Heita put down the gong, turned, and picked up two bundles of herbs half as tall as a person. Without a word, he threw them into the water with a splash.

Herbs are essentially dried grass with excellent water absorption. Once they hit the water, the packages opened, and the current carried them away. In the blink of an eye, they had all sunk to the bottom.

Gu Pingyuan calmly pointed to the water and said unhurriedly: “You see? My crew can throw all the herbs into the water to feed turtles in less than a quarter hour. At worst, we’ll jump in ourselves afterward. You should know that people who dared to cross Black Water Marsh don’t value their lives that highly. I just wonder how Lord Batu will explain this to the prince when he returns.”

Watching the bubbles occasionally rising from the swift river, Batu’s face turned ashen white. Cold sweat had already soaked his back. He had originally thought that once the Shanxi merchants were in Mongolian territory, he could manipulate them as he pleased. He had colluded with the garrison commander to set a trap, believing the ten thousand taels would be securely in his hands. Instead, he had provoked a group of men who disregarded their own lives. The situation had suddenly reversed. Batu was flustered, his arrogant demeanor completely gone. With trembling lips, he finally gritted his teeth and said: “But, but what if you take the silver and don’t deliver the goods…”

Before he could finish, Old Qi shouted back: “Even if you can’t read, you should know the reputation—when have Shanxi merchants ever taken money without delivering goods?”

Simultaneously from the boat, Liu Heita called out: “Pah! I’m not as shameless as you!”

Daylight had fully broken, and more and more people gathered on the riverbank, creating a loud commotion. Batu was absolutely unwilling to hand over ten thousand taels to Gu Pingyuan. Secretly harboring murderous intent, he planned to order his men to storm the boat. If they could recover the feather grass, excellent; if not, they would simply feed both the people and herbs to the fish. After all, the ten catties of feather grass Wu Gong had brought would be enough to prepare medicine for the prince’s mansion and his own household. As for the rest of the common people, they would have to fend for themselves.

Having made up his mind, he was about to turn and give the order when a hand suddenly gripped his wrist tightly. Batu, guilty-minded, was nearly startled into crying out. Turning hurriedly to look, he saw it was Commander Duo Shan.

Batu found Duo Shan’s grip as tight as a tiger’s jaw and grimaced as he asked: “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Duo Shan laughed coldly and released his hand. “I should ask you, what are you planning to do?”

“I was going to send troops to attack forcefully. These people can’t be allowed to live, or it will be terrible if the prince finds out when he returns!”

“So you do know it would be terrible?” Duo Shan growled softly. “Look around—how many people are on the riverbank now? At least two or three hundred. If you use force, you’re openly admitting you’re in the wrong. Before nightfall, not just Ukedo but all of Bayan Lege will know the prince’s mansion steward embezzled medicine money. By that time, you won’t be able to cover it up no matter what.”

Batu was stunned and began pacing anxiously: “According to you, our troops are completely useless. Isn’t this life-threatening?”

Duo Shan grabbed his shoulder and said fiercely: “Shut your mouth! Listen, both you and I bear a sea of blood responsibility in this matter. If something goes wrong, we’re grasshoppers on the same string—neither of us will escape.”

“As if I don’t know that…”

“Good that you know. As you said, not a single person from this Shanxi caravan can be left alive, but we can’t act here. For now, give them whatever they want. We must make the common people believe this is merely a business dispute, and we can resolve the rest gradually.” Duo Shan, being excellent in warfare, now employed the common battlefield tactic of appearing to yield while actually planning to capture.

“But…” Batu was reluctant to part with the ten thousand taels and hesitated.

Seeing his hesitation, Duo Shan moved closer and asked in a terrifyingly low voice: “Do you remember how Man Gui’er died last year after stealing a gold hairpin from the princess’s room?”

Batu certainly remembered. Man Gui’er had been the deputy chief eunuch of the prince’s mansion, highly trusted by the prince. Somehow, last spring, he had suddenly lost his senses and stolen a pearl-and-jade-encrusted gold hairpin from the princess’s room. He disassembled it and sold the jewels and gold to an out-of-town jeweler, thinking no one would ever know. But he was exposed. When the prince learned of this, he was furious. He had Man Gui’er tied up, set up a fire in the courtyard, and steamed him alive in a steamer. His corpse was thrown out to feed the dogs. All the servants in the prince’s mansion were called to witness. Batu would never forget Man Gui’er’s desperate screams from inside the steamer.

“I heard that hairpin Man Gui’er sold was worth only a thousand taels of silver. Now you’ve taken ten thousand from the prince. Hmm, hmm…” Duo Shan laughed coldly beside Batu’s ear.

“Stop, stop it. I’ll do as you say.” Batu was barely keeping himself from collapsing.

Duo Shan nodded: “Go and talk to them, but remember to speak softly. Coax them off the boat so the common people believe the matter is settled. Then we’ll have room to maneuver.”

Batu, having experienced many difficult situations, quickly regained his composure. After calculating inwardly, he had a plan. Feigning friendliness, he called to Gu Pingyuan: “All right, all right, all right! It’s just ten thousand taels. Actually, I initially wanted to make friends with you. I planned to use that payment to buy some goods from the grasslands for your caravan, to give you a nice surprise. Who knew you’d be so anxious? It’s all a misunderstanding. I have matters to attend to at the prince’s mansion, so please bring the herbs ashore, and I’ll pay the full amount now.”

Standing beside Gu Pingyuan, Liu Heita hadn’t expected Batu to back down so quickly. His large mouth was already grinning, and the other assistants were overjoyed. Only Old Qi quickly gave Gu Pingyuan a meaningful look.

Gu Pingyuan understood Old Qi’s meaning. He himself couldn’t believe Batu’s words either, but regardless, his willingness to trade was fortunate. Thinking that caution was paramount, he called out: “Lord Batu, although many people are witnessing this, what if once we go ashore, you go back on your word? What then?”

Batu mumbled vaguely: “Master Gu, I admit you’re formidable. What do you propose for the transaction?”

“Simple!” Gu Pingyuan’s proposed method was one no one could have anticipated.

Gu Pingyuan required Batu to send the ten thousand taels of payment to the boat by small skiff, after which Gu Pingyuan and his men would unload the goods on the opposite shore. Then they would load the camels onto the empty boat, drift downstream, disembark at a lower crossing, leave the cargo boat behind, and depart immediately with the caravan.

“That’s the method. What does Lord Batu think?”

Batu was nearly driven mad with anger. He never expected Gu Pingyuan to be so clever. Just as he was about to shout angrily, Duo Shan pressed his shoulder from behind. Batu turned to see Duo Shan nodding at him, indicating that he should agree.

Batu frowned in confusion, but Duo Shan’s expression was unyielding. Batu had no choice but to turn back and call to Gu Pingyuan in the middle of the river: “Master Gu, it’s settled then. I, Batu, am upright and honest. However you wish to conduct the transaction, I’ll comply!”

Liu Heita and Old Qi couldn’t hide their joy upon hearing this, but Gu Pingyuan knew that the crafty Batu required caution. Fortunately, following his plan with the boat in the water, they were relatively safe from tricks. At worst, they could land on the opposite shore, mount their camels, and flee. With a wide river between them, pursuit wouldn’t be easy.

At Old Qi’s command, the assistants gathered their spirits and unloaded all the herbs from the boat onto the opposite shore, then loaded the camels onto an empty boat. To prevent Batu from taking hostages, Gu Pingyuan, Old Qi, and several caravan leaders didn’t go ashore. They waited until Batu sent a fresh ten-thousand-tael Dragon Head banknote. An assistant brought it back, and Old Qi verified it was genuine, nodding to Gu Pingyuan.

Only then did Gu Pingyuan bow slightly and smile from the bow of the boat: “This has been troublesome for Lord Batu. Until we meet again!”

These were exactly the words Batu had said to Gu Pingyuan at the inn earlier. Using them now, the karmic retribution came quickly. Batu gnashed his teeth in anger as he watched Gu Pingyuan’s boat drift downstream along the Wonan River. Turning back to Duo Shan, he asked: “You’re just letting them go like this? True, the matter is resolved, but ten thousand taels of silver are gone too. After months of effort, we’ve ended up with nothing to show for it.”

Duo Shan’s face took on a sinister expression: “Didn’t you hear that Gu fellow say ‘until we meet again’? Rest assured, within a day, I’ll make sure you see him again.”

“Really?” Batu could hardly believe Duo Shan’s words.

“Of course. These Shanxi merchants think they’ve succeeded, but unfortunately, they don’t understand the geography and water conditions here. The Wonan River is rapid only around Ukedo, making boats travel faster. But thirty li downstream, the water becomes calm, and even with the current and towropes, boats move very slowly.” Being a military man who had been stationed in this area, Duo Shan naturally knew the terrain intimately.

“They think they can quickly drift hundreds of li downstream, but when they realize the boat’s slow pace, they’ll naturally disembark at a nearby dock and mount their camels. I believe they’ll choose… Huyang Dock! That’s definitely where they’ll disembark!”

“Then it’s simple. We’ll bring troops, capture them all, kill them and feed them to the fish, and take back the banknote,” Batu said, his eyes bulging.

Duo Shan shook his head: “When it comes to warfare, you’re truly an amateur! Huyang Dock has open terrain—if we’re not careful and a few escape, they’ll become a major threat. Besides, docks are crowded places with many eyes. How could we silence people there? Most importantly, I need at least one prisoner alive.”

“A live prisoner? Why?” Batu didn’t understand Duo Shan’s intent.

“According to the officer who escorted the caravan from Black Water Marsh, this caravan has more members than just these. This means they feared being caught all at once and have split into two groups. If we don’t capture someone alive, we won’t know the whereabouts of the other group. When cutting grass, you must remove the roots!” Duo Shan made a chopping motion downward.

“Yes, yes, yes! How thorough you are!” Batu suddenly understood, nodding repeatedly.

“Send fast riders to chase them from behind. You and I will follow with our personal guards a few li back. Once we determine which route they’ll take, we’ll use our faster horses to circle ahead and set an ambush in a suitable location. Once they enter our trap, hmm, whether to capture them alive or annihilate them will be entirely up to us.”

Outside the east gate of Ukedo stood a ten-li pavilion housing a stele from the Kangxi era. According to the inscription, in the twenty-seventh year of Kangxi, Galdan, the leader of the Dzungar tribe from Southern Mongolia, led fifty thousand troops in a surprise attack on Bayan Lege. To protect the elderly and children of his tribe, the Tushetu Khan met the enemy at the ten-li pavilion with two thousand warriors. As a result, all two thousand soldiers perished there without retreating, and the Tushetu Khan, to avoid capture and humiliation, slit his own throat.

Later, the Tushetu Khan’s daughter, Princess Baorilongmei, disguised herself as a beggar and traveled a thousand li to the capital to seek imperial aid. By chance, she encountered the Kangxi Emperor in commoner’s clothing. Kangxi admired her determination to fulfill her father’s wishes and deployed troops against the Dzungars, fighting a war that lasted eight years. Kangxi personally led three campaigns, eventually defeating Galdan and reclaiming the grasslands of the Keerkek Mongols. Grateful to Kangxi for avenging her father, Princess Baorilongmei voluntarily entered the palace as a consort and bore a son. This son would later become the Thirteenth Prince Yinxiang, who helped Yongzheng ascend the throne during the Nine Princes’ struggle for succession, rendered great service, and was granted the title of “Iron-capped Prince.”

These stories were like puppets on strings—pull one, and a whole series emerges. Yet the grudges and gratitudes had long since flowed eastward with the Wonan River waters, leaving only a weathered stele for later generations to contemplate.

Now, two men stood before the stele, reflecting on ancient times. One, a middle-aged man dressed as a Mongolian herder in fur robes and hat, had a stocky build with slightly bowed legs. His finger joints were calloused—clearly marks left by years of horseback riding and archery.

The other, an elderly man, wore the attire of a Central Plains resident—cotton robes and a long gown, with a bamboo walking stick in hand. His face was lean, but his eyes were bright. The old man touched the stele and sighed: “From the stele’s erection in the thirty-fifth year of Kangxi until today, more than one hundred and fifty years have passed. The bodies of the warriors who dyed this battlefield with their blood have long since turned to dust. They say, ‘The victor becomes king, the defeated a bandit,’ but even if Galdan hadn’t been defeated, he would still be just a handful of yellow earth today. For his wolfish ambitions, he created so much bloodshed. Now he must be suffering in hell.”

The middle-aged Mongolian listened, remained silent for a while, then said heavily: “Those words run deep. Savoring their flavor, I fear you’re admonishing me.”

“Not at all, not at all. This old man was merely reflecting on the past, momentarily moved by emotion—I had no other intention,” the old man smiled slightly.

The middle-aged Mongolian smiled bitterly: “But I heard the unspoken meaning. In this place, with this scene, I have no retort to such words. Creating massive bloodshed for personal gain is indeed wrong. Though Galdan was our tribe’s enemy, we should learn from past mistakes.”

The old man stroked his beard and nodded: “Indeed. To have such insight after returning from the battlefield is no small achievement.”

The middle-aged Mongolian continued: “Actually, we Mongolians grow up on the grasslands with the broadest of hearts. This recent matter is now behind us, and hereafter, Northern and Southern Mongolia will be as close as brothers. We would never smile to someone’s face while stabbing them in the back. You can be completely at ease about that.”

Just as the old man was about to reply, a strange, mocking voice interrupted from nearby: “Mongolians certainly wouldn’t stab someone in the back. But for killing, besides knives, there are plenty of methods. A bit of poison, a rope to strangle someone—aren’t those all Mongolian specialties?”

The old man frowned upon hearing this, while the middle-aged man’s face changed abruptly. Looking to the side, they saw a caravan resting by the pavilion.

This caravan was the one led by Sun Er. Following Gu Pingyuan’s instructions, they had exited Ukedo’s east gate and traveled over ten li without stopping. After a brief rest, they would continue toward Southern Mongolia. Originally, they had no quarrel with the two men in the pavilion, but the caravan assistants were all harboring resentment. Hearing the men say that “Mongolians are broad-minded and wouldn’t stab people in the back,” they felt indignant. One assistant, who typically enjoyed mocking others, couldn’t resist speaking up.

The middle-aged Mongolian stepped closer, his expression darkening: “From your appearance, you seem to be merchant guests doing business on the grasslands. Why are you so unruly, speaking ill of your hosts in broad daylight?”

The outspoken assistant slowly stood up and sneered: “Who do you say is the host?”

“On the great grasslands, naturally Mongolians are the hosts, and you are guests.”

“Then let me ask you, is there any principle in the world where hosts steal from their guests?” The assistant spoke confidently, completely ignoring Sun Er’s warning glances.

Other assistants also began to clamor, one after another: “That’s right, what principle is that?” “Have Mongolians changed their nature? Trying to be thieves in broad daylight?”

After hearing a few comments, the middle-aged man’s face flushed red. He shouted: “Nonsense! Mongolians have never been thieves.”

“That’s not certain. When even the prince’s mansion steward becomes a bandit, colluding with the military to force-purchase our goods, how can other Mongolians be any better?”

The middle-aged man was startled: “The prince’s mansion steward? You mean Batu?”

“Yes, that bastard. You know him? You’re no good either!” The assistants all began shouting again.

If Gu Pingyuan or Old Qi had been present, they would have noticed these two men were no ordinary people. Just from their attire alone, the Mongolian’s otter skin robe and the old man’s jade thumb ring were not possessions of common households. But the assistants couldn’t recognize such things and continued their heated discussion, even using vulgar language.

The old man had been listening for some time. Seeing the middle-aged man so angered that the veins on his forehead were bulging, he stepped forward and said: “Wait a moment. Since you’re so dissatisfied, why not explain clearly? To be honest, we’ve just arrived from elsewhere and aren’t clear about what’s happening in the city.”

“Tell you? A toad taking a deep breath—your attitude is quite grand! Even if we told you, could you do anything about it?!” the assistant replied rudely.

Sun Er was extremely reluctant to create complications at this point. Seizing a pause in the conversation, he stood up and took hold of a camel: “Let’s all say less. Time to get moving!”

Unexpectedly, the middle-aged man stepped forward and grabbed Sun Er’s wrist, his expression naturally commanding without anger: “Until the matter is clarified, no one leaves!”

The assistants erupted in an uproar. Already angry, this was like oil poured on fire. They clenched their fists and surrounded the men.

At that moment, there came the sound of swords being drawn from behind them, startling the caravan members. Looking back, they saw a group of Mongolians dressed as herders, holding swords and surrounding them.

“This is bad. I told you to hurry, but now Batu has caught up!” Sun Er’s heart sank.

Strangely, this group of men only held the caravan at swordpoint without attempting to capture anyone. A leader hurriedly ran over and knelt before the middle-aged man. Sun Er and the assistants, having traveled the western routes for years, understood some Mongolian. Hearing what was said, they were stunned. The previously eloquent assistant stuttered after a long pause: “You… you are the Prince…”

This was indeed the Prince of Keerkek. He was traveling with Chang Yu’er and an invited guest—the Minister of the Court of Colonial Affairs, Lord Chong’en, who had been sent by the imperial court to mediate the dispute. They had dressed in commoner’s clothing and traveled lightly back to Bayan Lege.

The prince had been anxious along the way, not knowing if something had happened in Bayan Lege. He worried that the epidemic had spread to the prince’s city and couldn’t understand why Batu, who had been ordered to buy medicine, hadn’t yet prepared it. More importantly, Chang Yu’er remained unconscious, still mumbling those few words in her delirium: “Ukedo, epidemic, medicine…” The prince had checked on her in the carriage several times and was troubled by her words.

Fortunately, as they approached Bayan Lege, they saw no fleeing refugees along the way, which reassured the prince. He realized he might have been overly anxious, seeing enemies in every shadow, and couldn’t help but laugh at himself. As they neared the city, he said: “We haven’t properly rested on our journey. Entering the city in such a disheveled state might cause people to recognize us and spread rumors that the prince has returned defeated. Let’s rest at the ten-li pavilion and tidy ourselves before entering the city.” Thus, the group had temporarily stopped at the pavilion, unexpectedly encountering Sun Er’s caravan.

Now with his identity revealed, the Prince of Keerkek naturally assumed his proper dignity: “Let me ask you, what did you mean by those words earlier?”

Just as Sun Er was about to answer, a Mongolian maidservant suddenly ran up from behind, both surprised and delighted: “Your Highness, the Han girl seems to have awakened!”

“Han girl?” Chang Yu’er’s mission to Niudu Valley had been kept secret even from Sun Er, but now everything was becoming clear. Hearing that this was the Prince of Keerkek, and then hearing “Han girl,” Sun Er blurted out: “Could it be Miss Chang who went to deliver the message?”

“Hmm?” The prince and Lord Chong’en exchanged glances, both sensing something unusual. The prince quickly asked: “What did you say? Which Miss Chang?”

“A young lady from our caravan rode out a few days ago to find Your Highness with a message. Her surname is Chang, and she’s our employer’s daughter.”

“Come with me. We’ll know if it’s her once we look.”

The carriage carrying Chang Yu’er was parked just a few zhang away, with two maidservants attending to her. Sun Er followed and took a look—it was indeed Chang Yu’er. Having been tasked with finding her, he was both surprised and delighted to encounter her here. He immediately called out: “Miss Chang, Miss Chang!”

Chang Yu’er had been recovering for several days, and her head injury was almost healed. Even without Sun Er’s calls, she was already regaining consciousness. Hearing someone calling her name, she awoke with a start. Looking around, the only person she recognized was Sun Er. It was like seeing family, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes. With the maidservant’s support, she struggled to sit up and asked: “Sun Er, where… where am I?”

Sun Er didn’t know what had happened to her after she left Ukedo, but he noticed her gaze passed over the prince’s face without recognition, which puzzled him. He quickly said: “Miss Chang, haven’t you brought the prince back with you?”

“The prince? Where is the prince?” Despite her injury and unconsciousness, this matter had remained on her mind. Hearing Sun Er’s words, she immediately tensed.

“Isn’t this the Prince of Keerkek?” Sun Er looked toward the prince.

Chang Yu’er followed his gaze and suddenly remembered—yes, this man had been on the viewing platform that day. But at that time, he had worn magnificent formal attire, whereas now he was dressed as an ordinary herder. Nevertheless, the dignity in his eyes remained unchanged.

Chang Yu’er struggled to her feet and knelt right in the carriage: “Your Highness, please help your humble subject!”

The Prince of Keerkek stood by, silently listening to the conversation between Sun Er and Chang Yu’er, knowing there must be something significant here. Seeing Chang Yu’er kneel, he noted that according to Qing dynasty protocol, a prince was above all officials. Not just a commoner girl but even a high minister would merely receive a nod or hand gesture in acknowledgment. He signaled the maidservants to help Chang Yu’er up: “Please rise, miss. Your injury hasn’t fully healed. Now that we’ve returned to Bayan Lege, anything you wish to say can wait until we enter the city.”

“No!” Chang Yu’er couldn’t wait a moment longer. Hearing they had returned to Bayan Lege, she quickly asked Sun Er: “Where is my brother? How is the business?”

“Alas!” Sun Er sighed. “Master Gu has resorted to desperate measures, fearing we might all be captured. He instructed me to lead most of the assistants away to safety. We had just left the city when we encountered the prince and you.”

“What desperate measures?” the prince and Chang Yu’er asked simultaneously.

Lord Chong’en had been listening for some time. Knowing that continued scattered conversation would only make matters more confused, he interjected: “I think we should let this young lady speak first. Why did you travel thousands of li to the battlefield to find the prince?”

Chang Yu’er had rehearsed these words in her mind hundreds of times during her journey. Finally able to speak, she recounted the entire story from beginning to end.

After hearing this, the prince was so angry his nose nearly twisted sideways. While he had been leading troops on the front, he never imagined a fire in his backyard—that such treacherous villains would commit such ghostly deeds. In front of the Han merchants and the imperial official, he felt profoundly embarrassed. Rage surged in his heart, and he shouted loudly: “That dog of a servant! I’ll have him fried in oil!”

“Slow down, slow down!” The mature and steady Lord Chong’en then asked Sun Er, “You mentioned ‘desperate measures’ earlier. What exactly does that mean?”

After Sun Er explained Gu Pingyuan’s strategy in detail, Chang Yu’er was the first to grow anxious. Her brother and Gu Pingyuan were in danger, and anything could happen. With Batu commanding soldiers, if he truly disregarded everything, the few caravan members would be crushed to powder. She quickly looked to the prince.

The prince’s anxiety was no less than Chang Yu’er’s. Concern for the merchants’ safety was secondary; what worried him most were the medicinal herbs that Gu Pingyuan had loaded onto the boat as a bargaining chip. These were life-saving medicines for the Mongolian people. If Gu Pingyuan acted impulsively and sank them in the river, countless Mongolian lives might be lost.

He turned to Lord Chong’en: “Teacher, I never expected such a major incident. It’s due to my lax management of subordinates. I’ll have someone escort you to my mansion first, while I rush to the dock.”

Lord Chong’en had no objection. The two groups merged into one and hurried toward the Ukedo dock.

Gu Pingyuan led the caravan downstream, and just as Commander Duo Shan had predicted, within thirty li, the water flow slowed considerably. They were riding on a ferry with only a scull and a long pole. Liu Heita stood at the bow, pushing with the pole, while an assistant who knew how to handle boats worked the scull at the stern. The rest could only watch, unable to help despite their willingness.

Old Qi observed for a while, then looked ahead, gauging the water conditions. After a short time, he said to Gu Pingyuan: “I don’t think we should continue by boat. This is much slower than riding camels.”

Gu Pingyuan had been thinking the same thing. He looked at both banks and pointed to the north shore: “We’re not far from Ukedo here—we must be cautious. Shall we disembark on the north bank? We can circle around and return to the south bank later. That would be safer.”