As Mo Zi and Fei Xia entered the ship’s cabin, a gust of strong wind rushed in behind them.
Old Guan emerged from his bedding while putting on his clothes, pushing the still-soundly-sleeping Chou Yu with one hand and asking, “Are we almost there?”
“About another hour or so.” Mo Zi had just finished her two-hour watch shift and now it was time for Old Guan and the others to take over. “I wanted Shui She to come in and rest for a bit, but he stubbornly refused. Once you go out, let him come rest. Whatever sleep he can get is better than nothing.”
“Alright.” Old Guan agreed, dragging along Chou Yu who was still fumbling with his belt, and went out.
Fei Xia said nothing—or rather, was too exhausted to speak. He removed his outer garment, burrowed into the still-warm bedding Chou Yu had vacated, and immediately fell asleep. In less than a minute, snoring sounds arose.
Mo Zi envied his straightforward ability to dive into bedding and start snoring. She could drink heavily, eat heartily, walk with long strides, and curse loudly, but no matter what, pretending was still pretending. Some habits, as a woman, she simply couldn’t compromise on.
The ship rocked violently. The cabin was filled with men lying scattered everywhere, and the air reeked of sweat, making her dizzy. Meanwhile, the sleeping bag specially made for her by Lu Ju had somehow been squeezed into the innermost corner. With a sigh, she drank a small cup of water as a substitute for rinsing her mouth, then tiptoed carefully, avoiding legs here and arms there, averting her eyes from the sprawling sleeping postures, and pulled the sleeping bag as close to the cabin wall as possible before crawling in with her clothes on. She tried not to think about how dirty she was, whether she stank as much as those men, or how her hair had become matted into itchy strands from the river mist. Fortunately, the sleeping bag still carried the scent of sunshine and lingering floral fragrance. Pressing her nose against the soft cotton fabric and breathing in small breaths, drowsiness gradually overcame her.
However, it felt like she hadn’t slept long when a tremor made her eyes snap open immediately. The oil lamp in the cabin still glowed faintly. Before her eyes appeared a pair of pupils as dark as night, yet crystalline bright.
“Wow—” Her tone and inflection carried a somewhat modern feel, making her suddenly come to her senses. When she spoke again, it was like a market ruffian of this era. “Brother Bai, if you’re not sleeping and staring with those huge eyes, who are you trying to scare to death?”
“Whoever has ghosts in their heart is who I’ll scare.” Bai Yu lay with his arm pillowing his head, his expression showing not the slightest trace of having just woken up.
This person had either awakened early or was a light sleeper. Thinking this, Mo Zi smiled. “Those little ghosts in my heart—can’t you see them clearly? But I said it early on, since we’re on the same boat, we all share the same fate. Don’t go overthinking things by yourself.”
Bai Yu grunted.
“Whether your name is real or fake, haven’t I also not made an issue of it?” Bai Yu, Bai Yu—this name always felt discordant with him.
“Better than you constantly calling me Erlang, Erlang. When unfamiliar people call me so intimately, I feel uncomfortable all over.” Bai Yu neither denied nor confirmed Mo Zi’s statement.
Mo Zi shrugged inside her bedding. “Better than calling you the Erlang God.”
“Brother Mo!” The cabin door suddenly opened. Old Guan’s voice was extremely low but urgent. “There’s a situation.”
At his words, all six of Bai Yu’s men moved, as if they’d been feigning sleep all along, moving swift as rabbits released, still as virgin maidens. Only shadows swayed—not a sound was heard.
Now, only Cen Er still slept soundly.
“Bai Yu!” Mo Zi wasn’t worried about outside first—she stabilized the inside. “Have your men extinguish the lamp and stay in the cabin. Without my word, don’t go out.” She naturally couldn’t command his men, so she spoke to him.
Bai Yu looked at her deeply, then instructed, “Listen to him.”
Zhong An, Shi Lei, and the other three immediately stayed in place.
Mo Zi walked outside with her hands behind her back. Hearing someone behind her, she turned to see Bai Yu following and raised both eyebrows. “You…”
“I won’t entrust the lives of my men and myself to complete strangers, especially smugglers.” Bai Yu made clear he feared she might play tricks.
“Then follow along, because I’m only responsible for the people I brought.” Mo Zi’s words were no less cutting than his sarcasm. After all, once this business was done, they’d go their separate ways—no need to cultivate a good impression.
Leaving the cabin, Mo Zi discovered the Yongfu had already reduced its speed to minimum.
“Did we strike a reef?” Looking at the mountain formations on both sides, they’d only traveled half an hour’s worth of river since she’d gone to sleep. Although they were approaching Startled Fish Rapids where hidden reefs increased and water flow became unstable, with Old Guan’s skill, he shouldn’t have struck a reef.
“Not a reef.” Old Guan shook his head and pointed. “There’s a ship ahead.”
“A ship?” Mo Zi was somewhat surprised at his words. Looking intently, there was indeed a ship, its lamplight flickering as it cut through the water.
The terrifying legends about Startled Fish Rapids were known to almost everyone, young and old, in the Luo Zhou and Yun Zhou regions. But this smuggling route was one Mo Zi had discovered while reading ancient texts from decades ago. Since she’d begun leading ships along it, she’d found that from the junction of Luo River and Startled Fish Rapids to Reed Flower Beach, there were no boat tracks or human traces—only white bones everywhere, but no fresh blood or rotting flesh. In other words, this waterway had been abandoned for decades, and now only the Yongfu traveled it.
Yet at this moment, there was actually a ship ahead. Moreover, judging from the ship’s outline illuminated by its blazing lamps, it was at least twice the size of the Yongfu. If it was twice as large, then—
Mo Zi was still thinking.
“Is it a Great Zhou warship?” Everyone knew the navy had been frequently patrolling the waters these days. Old Guan guessed.
“Warships simply can’t enter the narrow current ahead. However, even if it’s not a warship, it’s probably dispatched by officials. Look how it doesn’t hide its lights, so open and aboveboard. If it were a merchant vessel, how could it be so blatant?” Mo Zi rubbed her tightening brow, troubled.
“Then what do we do?” Chou Yu came over to ask. “We can’t just turn back here, can we?”
Of course not—she couldn’t answer to Qiu Sanniang.
Mo Zi was still hesitating when she suddenly heard faint voices from that ship, forcing her to make a snap decision. “Chou Yu, Fei Xia, you brothers take down all the sails for me. Old Guan, notify Shui She to change course.” Looking around in all directions, she immediately found a nearby dark cliff face. “Stop the ship beneath that cliff wall, and use the vines and mountain shadows to hide temporarily. Right now, we can only wait and see.”
“What can we do?” Just as he’d said before, Bai Yu didn’t mind weathering difficulties together.
“Once the ship stops, help pull the vines to conceal the boat. Also, since we’re hiding, don’t make any movements that would expose our position.” Mo Zi didn’t bother with false courtesy either.
Bai Yu watched as she finished speaking and then jumped onto the ship’s left wing, grabbing with both hands a pole several times her height and nimbly pushing it into the water, channeling her entire body’s strength into the pole, bending into a shrimp-like shape.
This person had a sharp tongue and slippery manner, but actually seemed competent when working. His impression of Mo Zi improving slightly, he strode over and reached out from behind her with both arms to help pole the boat.
Mo Zi felt something scalding hot press against her back. Startled, she turned her head, but her nose bumped into Bai Yu’s solid chest, making her cry out involuntarily, “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Helping you.” His two simple words.
Whether it was Bai Yu’s great strength or Shui She turning the rudder on his end, the Yongfu found the right direction and slowly sailed toward that patch of darkness.
She was male. He was also male. Two grown men poling bamboo together—nothing wrong, nothing wrong. Mo Zi turned around, silently chanting in her heart, forcefully dispelling the blush that threatened to rise.
The night was perfectly dark.