On both sides, verdant mountains soared into the clouds, their dense forests luxuriant. From time to time, weary birds returned to their nests. The sky gradually drew back its fish-belly white, daubing on half a starry night. Fine water vapor, unable to absorb the heat of sunlight, suddenly cooled, striking the skin with a bone-penetrating chill.
On a high protruding rock, a spotted fawn suddenly leaped out, its large eyes ink-black, its ears twitching from time to time—wondering if, like her, it was listening to the river sing. However, its mother soon appeared, bending her elegant neck to gently nudge the little deer. The fawn then followed behind the doe, leaping into the thicket.
Between several undulations of waves, monkey cries suddenly came through—whether calling to companions or playing and frolicking after dinner, one cry after another, as if grabbing tree vines to play on swings, from far to near.
Mo Zi listened intently, only feeling nature was miraculous and interesting. Perhaps what she envied most was the free and unrestrained existence in those verdant mountains.
“On both banks ape cries never cease, the light boat has passed ten thousand layered mountains.”
Li Bai’s poem stirred the heart with surging emotion and magnificent spirit. However, in this historical current that had already gone astray, there was no Li Bai. At least, she had never seen his works in any poetry anthology, nor had she ever heard anyone mention the name Li Bai. She had never been enthusiastic about meeting famous people from under the prosperous Tang, but Li Bai was an exception. She wanted to see how the Immortal Poet could write these magnificent verses one after another with drunken, hazy eyes, making listeners drunk along with him. Unfortunately, she had arrived nearly a hundred years too late—otherwise, she might have gone on a search for Li Bai.
“What excellent lines—’On both banks ape cries never cease, the light boat has passed ten thousand layered mountains.’ A fine poem! An unheard-of fine poem!” Clap, clap, clap—palms striking the wind. Someone had come up behind Mo Zi.
Having inadvertently recited Li Bai’s poem aloud, Mo Zi was quite vexed. Last time, forced by necessity, after stealing that “You and I” poem, she had no intention of exploiting others’ poetry again, fearing these others might still appear in the confused spacetime. Even Li Bai—who knew? Perhaps he was just born a hundred years late. Therefore, modern shipbuilding techniques and knowledge could be applied, but she felt ashamed using even one Tang or Song poem. She couldn’t remember many poems to begin with, but those she did remember were all masterpieces handed down through the ages. If she casually spoke them aloud, would those poets who should be famous for them fall into obscurity instead? She didn’t worry about changing history, but worried about erasing individual existence.
“Who would have thought that young brother is not only extraordinarily quick-witted, but also possesses such learning. I’m extremely impressed. I wonder if these two lines have an upper verse?” The one who wouldn’t stint on praising a servant could be none other than Zhong An.
Mo Zi turned around, only to see standing beside Zhong An was also Erlang, whose great name was Bai Yu. She thought—well now, there are two witnesses. Even if she wanted to deny it by claiming they misheard, it wouldn’t be possible.
“Sir, you’re really joking. How would I have any learning? Though I recognize a few characters, I learned them following my master doing business—I’ve never studied books. These two lines I heard a scholar recite. Two boats crossed paths on the river surface. At the time I felt it quite fitting to the scene, so I remembered it. As for the upper verse you mentioned, I didn’t hear it.” Lying about this didn’t make her blush—better than thick-facedly saying she composed it herself.
“A scholar?” Zhong An actually took it seriously. “To chant such verses, he must possess world-shocking talent. I wonder when young brother encountered him, and what did this person look like?”
Asking in such detail—was he going to post a missing person notice? Mo Zi secretly cried bitterness. Thinking that ancient scholars indeed had a kind of persistent dedication to seeking out hidden talents, she had no choice but to cut off his thoughts. “Around New Year’s, I suppose. A fleeting glimpse—I don’t remember what he looked like.”
“Then he might have been a scholar heading to the examinations.” Zhong An’s thoughts not only weren’t severed, but became clearer. He said to Bai Yu, who stood silently to one side, “This year’s autumn examination qualifiers—there might be rarely-seen extraordinary talent.”
The corner of Bai Yu’s mouth suddenly curved in a strange smile. His gaze looked directly into Mo Zi’s pair of eyes. Seeing some flicker in them, his smile deepened. “If you ask me, that’s not necessarily so. Just two lines of poetry—a flash in the pan is also possible. Or perhaps that person also heard it from somewhere else.”
“Exactly.” Mo Zi, thinking it was a fortuitously appearing step down, hastily descended a few more steps along it. “Moreover, I heard you mention autumn examination qualifiers—could you gentlemen be officials? Otherwise, why would a poetry-reciting scholar make you this happy?”
“Eh?” Zhong An hadn’t expected Mo Zi’s eyes to be so sharp. He laughed dryly twice, waving his hand in denial. “If we were officials, why would we need to ride your boat?”
This person wasn’t stupid. Mo Zi gave a dry laugh, then changed the topic again. “It’s about to be nightfall. Outside the wind is high and waves are large—you two gentlemen should go inside the cabin.”
“Young brother, isn’t this boat taking the Ping River?” Zhong An had actually come out because he had questions to ask.
“The Ping River currently has Da Zhou and Nande’s naval forces strictly inspecting passing vessels. The Yongfu naturally can’t take it. We’ve already passed Fairy Gorge and entered the outer rivers of Yun Zhou territory. We’ll detour to Luozi River, enter Startled Fish Rapids—there the river surface is narrow and swift with hidden reefs everywhere, called an insurmountable water barrier, never navigable. Add to that how Startled Fish Rapids has sparse human habitation and few troops deployed—it’s the only place we can go ashore.” Mo Zi wasn’t afraid to tell them the route, because without those details, even if they wanted to take this waterway themselves, they would only become food in fish bellies.
“Since it’s called an insurmountable water barrier, can our boat, being so small, get through?” Insurmountable water barrier—famous throughout the realm. That was where Da Zhou and Nande’s borders were closest together, yet also where they were most at ease. Like being separated by a bottomless gorge—you could see the opposite side but could never cross that vast chasm.
“That depends on our luck.” Mo Zi spoke only half her words.
“Depends on luck, not on your abilities?” Zhong An thought these boat people chatting and laughing should have complete confidence.
“Depends on abilities, also depends on luck. Do you think, sir, if we didn’t have the guts to not fear death, we’d dare to smuggle goods? Though Startled Fish Rapids has no evil ghosts, there are indeed many white bones, with no one to collect and bury them to this day. On this trip of ours, if Heaven doesn’t protect us, everyone can only die together. However, having you several along, the road to the Yellow Springs will be livelier.” Mo Zi saw Zhong An’s expression change slightly and continued, “Don’t tell me you thought, sir, that boarding this Yongfu truly meant eternal fortune? I’m not trying to scare you—you need to have some understanding in your hearts. This is a life-risking business—no one takes it as a joke.”
“If you need help, just speak up.” Bai Yu’s face showed no terror.
Actually Zhong An’s expression wasn’t fear either—he had just underestimated the danger of smuggling, thinking shortcuts were easy to take.
“I won’t be polite about that. If Heaven isn’t favorable, each of your hands will be borrowed to keep the boat afloat. We’re now one boat, one life—no grudges, no right or wrong, only staying alive. No matter whether you’re officials or wealthy, once on the boat you must listen to me. Otherwise when you become lonely ghosts, don’t come blaming me.” Mo Zi wasn’t threatening—she was warning. What boat travel feared most was laypeople pointing and gesturing.
“Brother Mo, it’s night. There are stars, scattered clouds, wind veering north, level three.” Stinky Fish reported from the observation platform.
“Raise three masts, detour to Luozi River, full speed. Take advantage of the wind to cover more distance. Tomorrow night we enter the rapids.” Mo Zi no longer paid attention to the two behind her, walking to the mast to pull the sails together with Fat Shrimp.