Xiao Nanhui was woken by suffocation.

She didn’t know whether she had grabbed the blanket herself in her sleep and pulled it over her face, but it was now pressed firmly over her, making her chest tight and her breathing short.

She threw off the blanket and sat up, casting a suspicious look at the person beside her — but that person’s posture was almost identical to what it had been before she fell asleep, his breathing steady and even, apparently also asleep.

Seeing no reaction from him, Xiao Nanhui simply stared at him openly and without restraint.

She had to say: Zhongli Jing’s sleeping posture was remarkably composed. Even while slightly dazed with illness, he maintained his cross-legged sitting position the entire time — without so much as letting his head droop to one side.

This brought to mind the herb-gatherers she had once seen in the mountains back at Zhong Shan. To reach rare and precious plants, those people would often climb steep mountains for days at a time. They slept in the crevices of sheer cliff faces at night, and had to bind themselves securely beforehand, because the slightest shift in sleep could send them plummeting to their deaths in the ravine below.

The person before her, on the other hand — everything about his bearing and manner spoke of distinguished and prominent origins. Yet somehow, from time to time, he gave off the impression of someone who had endured hardship and suffering.

What was his true identity?

Xiao Nanhui’s gaze drifted slowly downward, eventually coming to rest on the man’s waist.

She wondered whether he might be carrying anything on him — a waist badge, a jade pendant — that might yield some clue.

Xiao Nanhui drew a quiet breath and began inching toward him with utmost caution.

She had moved barely a fraction when the carriage door was thrown open without warning.

At the same instant, Zhongli Jing’s eyes opened.

Xiao Nanhui shot back to her original position as if struck by an invisible blow, sitting ramrod straight against the side panel of the carriage.

Ding Weixiang at the door raised an eyebrow, swept the interior of the carriage with a quick look, found nothing amiss, and spoke: “My lord, we’ve arrived.”

Arrived? Where had they arrived?

Rather puzzled, she climbed out of the carriage. The moment she stepped down, a roaring sound filled her ears. She hadn’t taken two steps before Bolao grabbed her from behind.

She looked down. A single step away from her was a sheer drop — a cliff plunging hundreds of feet to roaring, churning water below. The noise that had been echoing in her ears came from there.

All around was pitch dark without a flicker of light. As her eyes adjusted, she looked out by moonlight and saw that across this cliff’s edge was a bridge — constructed of iron chains and wooden planks, and looking as though it had stood for quite a few years.

Ding Weixiang was helping Zhongli Jing down from the carriage. Xiao Nanhui hurried forward. “Is this the overland route you spoke of? It doesn’t look like anything a person could safely cross — shouldn’t we—”

Ding Weixiang glanced at her, and for reasons unknown, Xiao Nanhui again felt a thread of hostility in that look.

“This is the shortcut across the Guantian Gorge. Entering Chizhou from here will cut three days off the journey compared to going through the Da Fen crossing.”

So then?

Xiao Nanhui blinked. “But what if someone falls—”

Zhongli Jing’s complexion was still somewhat pale, but beyond that, he seemed otherwise unremarkable. “There are ambushes numbering not less than a thousand on the main road back to Chizhou. If you’d like to meet each of them one by one and exchange pleasantries, I certainly won’t stop you — only please leave me out of it.”

Xiao Nanhui was at a loss for words. She hadn’t expected the news that the seal was in their possession to have spread so quickly.

Zhongli Jing looked at her with an expression that was almost amused, as if he could read her thoughts. He continued in an unhurried tone: “Of course, it isn’t all on account of that item. Some of them are after me.”

Only then did Xiao Nanhui grasp the full picture. The seal falling into their hands had happened only a few hours ago — news simply could not have traveled so fast. These people were already there because of him.

Wait — hadn’t he been the one to suggest she travel with them, and offer her his carriage—

“You two are absolutely unscrupulous. So all along you were luring us onto your sinking ship.” Bolao had figured it out as well, and kicked a pebble angrily across the ground. It skittered off the edge and plunged into the gorge below, swallowed by the rushing water in an instant — a vivid demonstration of exactly how unforgiving this place was.

Zhongli Jing took no notice of Bolao’s furious display, and turned to lift from the carriage the box containing the secret seal. “From the moment you took possession of this item, we were already on the same boat.”

Those words, landing in Xiao Nanhui’s ears, brought back the memory of that dangerous ferry crossing on the Hun River when they had first arrived in Mu Er He. Ding Weixiang had used “those who cross in the same boat” to win her over — and for all she knew, this person had already factored her in from that very moment?

Xiao Nanhui shivered, telling herself she was surely overthinking it — but that faint, creeping, unsettling feeling had taken root in her chest and simply would not leave.

Xiao Nanhui struck a flint to light the way and saw, beside the bridgehead, a flattened stone. Crudely chiseled into it were two simple illustrations — first, three small figures crossing the bridge; then, one person with one horse crossing the bridge — depicting, in rough strokes, the bridge’s maximum load capacity.

No wonder so few people chose this route. A remote location like this was already one where travelers would naturally move in groups — but this bridge couldn’t bear too many people at once.

Meanwhile, Ding Weixiang had already begun disassembling the carriage. He unhitched the two horses, transferred the luggage and the large trunk from the carriage and secured everything to the horses’ backs. It appeared they would be abandoning the carriage and crossing on foot.

Xiao Nanhui muttered under her breath: “What a waste.”

Ding Weixiang lifted his eyes to her. “The carriage may be valuable, but a human life is worth more.”

Your lord’s life is what’s worth more.

Xiao Nanhui couldn’t be bothered to call him out. She went forward to help transfer the remaining luggage to the horses’ backs.

Jixiang had never in her life been treated as a beast of burden, and the horse conveyed every bit of that displeasure.

She had already used up the dried mushrooms she’d brought from Quecheng — there was nothing left to placate the horse with. She had no choice but to redistribute the load, pulling one of the heavier parcels from the horse’s back and carrying it on her own. The temperamental creature immediately achieved some psychological satisfaction, stopped fidgeting, and settled its hooves.

At this point there were four of them, three horses. For safety, they decided to have Bolao — the lightest of the group — lead Jixiang across first.

Bolao was reluctant at first. She was afraid of heights, and had absolutely no desire to be the one leading the way. Xiao Nanhui coaxed and cajoled her, saying that those who went first were actually safer — those who followed behind were the ones at risk — and that was barely enough to persuade her.

Watching Jixiang’s rear end slowly disappear onto the suspension bridge, Xiao Nanhui looked at the person beside her.

“Who goes next?”

Silence.

A whistle sounded from the far bank — Bolao’s signal, meaning she had crossed and the next person could proceed.

Xiao Nanhui looked again at Ding Weixiang, who stood steady as a mountain. “Isn’t Brother Ding going to cross?”

Ding Weixiang kept his eyes ahead, not turning his head a fraction. “You go first.”

Xiao Nanhui was puzzled. “Why should I go first? These are your horses — or am I expected to lead them across?”

“I must ask Brother Yao for the inconvenience — for safety’s sake, I cannot leave my lord’s side.”

Xiao Nanhui looked to Zhongli Jing. He actually showed her an innocent expression. “I am nowhere near as nimble and capable as Brother Yao — I depend on Wei Xiang at every turn. I hope you’ll forgive me for making you witness such a sorry sight.”

Xiao Nanhui was nearly driven to laughter and tears by these two. She had just wavered slightly when a second thought stopped her cold: if she crossed to the other side alone, and those two made off with the jade seal — what then?

“I’ll cross — but you have to give the item to me first.”

Ding Weixiang’s expression did not change. “No.”

Xiao Nanhui burst out laughing despite herself. “This won’t do, that won’t do — fine, let the three of us just stand here all night then.”

The air fell into dead silence once more.

How long passed, no one could say. Bolao, apparently having grown impatient waiting on the far side, came back across. “What on earth are you all dawdling about?”

Xiao Nanhui pointed to the two remaining horses. “Perfect timing — take these two horses across.”

Bolao’s eyes went wide. “Why should I? This bridge can only bear one horse’s weight at a time — that means I’d have to make two more trips?”

Xiao Nanhui was too exhausted to explain the impossible tangle of the situation, and resorted to flattery: “Your lightness technique is the best — you walk steadiest.”

This tactic proved most effective. Bolao went slightly lightheaded, and in her elation began to get a little demanding, tilting her chin up: “Then you’ll have to ask me properly.”

Xiao Nanhui dropped the smile. She gave that round little head a firm smack. “I am your superior — you expect me to beg you? Keep it up and I’ll go back and report everything to Dujuan.”

Bolao clutched the back of her head, glared at Xiao Nanhui with deep resentment, and yet in the end had no choice but to comply under threat.

The moon had climbed to its zenith. The hour of Zi had just passed.

Bolao made two trips before finally getting both horses to the far side, by the end of which her expression was thoroughly miserable. She gripped one end of the suspension bridge and gave it a shake, urging those on the other side to hurry up.

Only three lone figures remained at the cliff’s edge, with that small wooden box. In the darkness, the black suspension bridge looked, no matter how one regarded it, utterly ominous.

Xiao Nanhui kept her eyes fixed on the box in Zhongli Jing’s hands. “What are you all standing around for? Let’s go!”

Ding Weixiang kept his eyes fixed on Xiao Nanhui’s face. “Together.”

Only the man between them maintained, as ever, that infuriating, unruffled expression — the kind that made one want to strike him.

All three stepped onto the pitifully narrow suspension bridge at almost the same instant. None was willing to go first; none was willing to fall behind. They had no choice but to squeeze in a row and inch forward together with great difficulty.

The suspension bridge stretched roughly a hundred meters in length. The farther they moved toward the center, the more violently it swayed.

The thundering sound of the river below grew ever louder, and they hung suspended above the maw of some great beast — a single fall would swallow them in an instant.

The spray thrown up by the water crashing against the cliff walls drifted upward, misting their eyes. Xiao Nanhui paused for a moment to wipe the droplets from her eyelashes.

And the wooden plank beneath her feet, at that brief pause, gave out a dull cracking sound.

Ding Weixiang spun around sharply. Xiao Nanhui had already gone rigid. She slowly looked down and saw that the crack in the plank appeared to have stopped spreading.

She let out a breath of relief and carefully stepped away from that plank — but the moment her foot left it, a rapid succession of ear-splitting sounds came from directly behind her.

This time it was not the sound of a plank cracking.

The iron chains, looped link through link, were riddled with rust. In the darkness, one link was the first to give way, and then, one after another, the rest of the chains snapped under the load.

The entire bridge let out a low, hoarse, groaning roar. The sound echoed through the gorge in a terrifying reverberation that made Xiao Nanhui instinctively swallow.

Could it be that this bridge truly had fallen into such disrepair that it was finally giving out?

Or — was it because of that piece of luggage she had just unloaded from Jixiang’s back?

Surely it couldn’t be — that she had eaten too much in the past few days and put on weight?

“Does either of you feel that this bridge is shaking rather badly?”

Xiao Nanhui’s gaze met Ding Weixiang’s across the gap.

No — something was wrong.

There was one more possibility.

That right now, on this suspension bridge, there were not only three of them.