Song Wan followed Chen Zheng hunting. He made a trap and waited with Song Wan in a nearby cave all afternoon, but caught nothing. Instead, they got entangled in the cave several times.

The two were exhausted and fell asleep embracing on the grass mat.

In the deep of night, the wood had burned out. Without fire, the winter mountain cave was very cold. Chen Zheng was woken by cold and called her to go back.

The stronghold gate was open, unlocked. Chen Zheng looked strangely toward the watchtower—no one was on guard. He didn’t pay much attention, thinking the person might have gone to relieve himself or to steal drinks, so he closed the stronghold gate himself and locked it.

Song Wan was tired from walking and had Chen Zheng carry her. The two were playfully walking slowly toward their quarters when suddenly a dark purple figure flashed in the distance, quickly climbing over He Zhan’s courtyard wall.

Chen Zheng was stunned, thinking his eyes were playing tricks. Song Wan gently tugged his ear, “Why aren’t you walking?”

Chen Zheng bounced her up, “Nothing, let’s go. Hold tight.” He hadn’t walked far when the purple shadow climbed back out over the courtyard wall. This time Chen Zheng saw the person clearly and immediately dodged to the side of a wall.

Song Wan was puzzled, “What’s wrong?”

“Shh, don’t talk.” Chen Zheng glanced sideways, then ran home carrying Song Wan on his back.

“What’s wrong?” Song Wan felt something was off with him, “Why are you running?”

Chen Zheng quickly returned to their room and set Song Wan down.

Song Wan was dizzy from being bounced around, “Did you see a ghost? Running so fast!”

Chen Zheng covered her mouth, “Keep your voice down.”

Song Wan pulled his hand away, “Acting all suspicious, what’s wrong?”

“I saw Japanese people.”

“Japanese people?” Song Wan didn’t believe it, “How could Japanese people be in the stronghold? You must have seen wrong.”

“Impossible. Carrying two swords, the hair, and the clothes—clearly Japanese dress. I could see wrong once, but not twice.” Chen Zheng’s forehead broke out in fine sweat, the more he thought about it the more panicked he became, “He sneakily climbed over the wall into the First Young Master’s residence.”

Seeing his serious expression, Song Wan realized he wasn’t joking. She bit her finger, “What would Japanese people want in the First Young Master’s courtyard?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sneaking in secretively in the dead of night, they’re definitely up to no good.” Song Wan suddenly exclaimed, “The First Young Master isn’t secretly collaborating with the Japanese, is he? They all say he’s Japanese spawn! Are they plotting something? To take the stronghold? Swallow the coal mine? They won’t kill us, will they?”

“Don’t guess wildly.” Chen Zheng pressed her to sit down, “I’ll go out and take a look first. You stay home and don’t come out, lock the doors and windows.”

“No, you can’t go.” Song Wan gripped his hand, “There must be some secret. Be careful they’ll silence you—those people kill without blinking.”

“The First Young Master isn’t that kind of person.” Chen Zheng was distressed, “Even if he really is collaborating, we need to notify the Young Master and the Chief immediately.”

“I don’t want… don’t go…”

“Be good, I’ll be back in a moment.” Chen Zheng kissed her cheek and quietly went out.

He hid behind a woodpile by the wall to observe the surroundings and saw two more Japanese ninjas climb out of He Feng’s courtyard, whisper a few words, then head in different directions.

If He Zhan really was the traitor, why were they sneaking around the Young Master’s courtyard?

After the people left, Chen Zheng crouched and quickly ran over. Just as he reached the courtyard entrance, Song Wan called to him from behind.

Chen Zheng was scared out of his wits and hurriedly pulled her inside, “Why did you follow?”

“I was scared alone.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Oh.”

Song Wan followed Chen Zheng inside. There was a trail of blood on the ground. Chen Zheng touched it with his hand—the blood was still fresh. Song Wan was frightened and hugged his arm tightly, “Why is there blood?”

He Zhan’s courtyard had two rooms—one where he lived, one where Er Huang lived. The blood trail led in two directions. Chen Zheng realized something was wrong and hurriedly went to He Zhan’s room to knock on the door. The door was ajar and opened when he knocked. Chen Zheng peered inside, “First Young Master?”

No one answered.

“First Young Master?”

He saw He Zhan lying on the bed, blanket covering his face, motionless. Chen Zheng walked to the bedside and lifted the blanket.

“Ahh—” Song Wan screamed.

Chen Zheng covered her mouth, “Don’t scream.”

Song Wan looked at the corpse on the bed, scared speechless, nodding continuously, “He… he’s dead?”

He Zhan lay there peacefully, a thin, long knife wound on his neck, looking like he died without any pain.

Song Wan sat on the ground, tears streaming from fear, “The Japanese killed someone.”

Chen Zheng dragged her to crouch behind the bed, “It must be because of the coal mine.” The more Chen Zheng guessed, the more panicked he became, “There aren’t many men in the stronghold to begin with, and the Young Master took people to celebrate Old Lady Pei’s birthday. How did the little devils get up here?” After speaking, he got up to leave.

Song Wan grabbed him to stop him from leaving, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to call people. Everyone’s asleep in the middle of the night, completely defenseless. They’re just sitting ducks for the little devils to slaughter.” Chen Zheng touched her face soothingly, “They just came through here, they probably won’t come back. You hide here.”

“I’m scared, there’s a dead person here… I’ll go with you.”

“It’s too dangerous to come with me.”

Suddenly, shouting and gunshots came from outside. Someone must have woken up and started fighting the Japanese.

Song Wan was frightened and hid in Chen Zheng’s arms.

Chen Zheng cursed and drew his knife, about to rush out.

Song Wan pressed down his hand, “Let’s run, don’t get involved in this.”

“I can’t abandon my brothers.”

Suddenly, with a bang, the door was kicked open.

Chen Zheng protected Song Wan behind him, seeing the intruder had a braided queue, a small mustache on his lip, wielding swords with both hands, blood on the long blade glinting in the moonlight.

…

Xie Chi woke with a start—she’d had another nightmare.

He Feng was sleeping deeply beside her. She hid under the covers and hugged his waist.

He Feng was awakened by her movement, eyes closed as he touched her head, “What’s wrong?”

“I dreamed I killed someone.” She curled up her legs, shrinking into a ball, “I dreamed Song Qingtao was covered in blood.”

Her hands and feet were ice cold. He Feng turned over to hold her in his arms, gripping her hands and kissing her hair, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. Sleep.”

…

Xie Chi didn’t sleep all night, her head dizzy, so tired she could barely open her eyes. She intermittently heard He Feng talking with someone in the corridor.

“Which route did they take up?”

“Are all the people below dead?”

“How many came?”

Xie Chi squinted at the window—it wasn’t dawn yet.

She turned over, closed her eyes and continued sleeping.

After a long while, He Feng sat on the bedside and touched her face, speaking softly: “There’s something happening at the stronghold. I need to go back first. You sleep more, wait for me to return.”

Xie Chi drowsily agreed.

…

Qing Village.

Song Qingtao cursed furiously, kicking Song Ye in the chin. He fell backwards, his tongue hitting his teeth, blood flowing continuously.

“How did our Qing Village raise a turncoat like you! Of all things to become, you became a traitor!”

Song Qingtao was enraged, stepping on his stomach, “I hate two kinds of people most in my life—slutty little bitches who seduce people, and traitors who sell out their country. I actually called you cousin brother. Our Song family has no scum like you!”

“Qingtao, how has the He family treated us! Can’t you see clearly! Uncle Song died with his eyes open! We can’t deal with those people, so let them handle it—doesn’t that save us a lot of trouble?” Song Ye spat blood, “Don’t let emotions cloud your judgment, you’ve even forgotten the revenge for your father’s death!”

“No matter how much they deserve to be cut to pieces, you can’t become the Japanese dogs’ lackey and betray us.”

“I didn’t betray you! I only gave them routes into the mountains and maps of Lei Village and Yun Village. Tanaka Hisatomo promised me he wouldn’t touch our Qing Village people, and I already moved most of the stronghold people to safety in advance. It’s very safe. He said after it’s done, I’ll get twenty percent of the mine. The Japanese don’t want the stronghold, only the coal mine. Without Yun Village, we’ll never have to look at anyone’s face again—we’ll be the masters of the four mountains!”

“Do Second Uncle and Third Uncle know about this too? Where are they? Where did you move all the other people in the stronghold!” Song Qingtao drew her gun and pressed it to his head, “What else have you done?”

“Don’t worry, they’re safe.” Song Ye gritted his teeth, “In any case, He Feng can’t escape this time. At the beginning of the year, he led people to kill over a hundred Japanese and buried them in the big pit behind the mountain—”

Before he could finish, Song Qingtao kicked him in the face, interrupting him and roaring furiously: “You told that bastard Tanaka about this?”

Song Ye’s head hit the table corner, bloody, “Yes! I told them! Who told him to be so arrogant as to provoke the Japanese! I personally led them to dig up the pit! All the bones are piled there! Not one from Yun Village will escape!” Song Ye laughed maniacally, deciding to come clean with her completely, “Lei Village caught a Japanese woman and two kids and sent them to Yun Village. Those useless He family members actually let them go. I caught up and killed them all. Do you know whose people those were? They were Tanaka Hisatomo’s sister-in-law and nephews! They were the ones who caught them, but they died on the road. A hundred mouths couldn’t explain that clearly.”

Looking at his ugly, grinning face, Song Qingtao drew her gun to shoot him. Suddenly someone came to report, “Little… little… little devils—”

Song Qingtao cursed at him, “Straighten your tongue before speaking!”

“Little devils attacked up from Lei Village and are ramming our stronghold gate.”

Song Ye was stunned, “Impossible, they’re just passing through. He promised me! Right, they must be passing through. Let me go see.”

Song Qingtao was trembling with rage, “At this point you still believe those beasts’ words. Stay put here, I’ll settle accounts with you later!” Song Qingtao took her gun toward the stronghold gate, “Damn it, daring to climb on top of your grandmother.”

Song Ye scrambled to his feet and chased after her, “Wait, there’s a misunderstanding, there must be a misunderstanding. Let me go talk to them, don’t be impulsive!”

Song Qingtao turned and kicked him again, “Coward, get lost!”

“They’re armed! It’s not as simple as it appears on the surface—there are many soldiers mixed in! You can’t conflict with them, we can’t beat them!” Song Ye hugged her legs and screamed, “Just let them pass through, they’re looking for the He family, it has nothing to do with us!”

Song Qingtao couldn’t walk with him hugging her legs, so she drew her knife and stabbed it hard into his shoulder, “Dog traitor! Let me go! Even if we Song family members die in battle, we won’t bow to the Japanese invaders.”

Song Ye clutched his wound rolling on the ground. Seeing Song Qingtao walk out, he crawled on the ground shouting: “Stop! Qingtao! Song Qingtao—”

The stronghold gate was tightly closed. Song Qingtao quickly climbed the watchtower. There weren’t many Japanese outside—some wore samurai clothing with swords, others wore civilian clothes with guns. She looked at them furiously and roared: “Little Japanese, have you come to my grandmother’s territory to die! Which one is that bastard Tanaka whatever-his-name?”

The leading Japanese samurai sat on horseback, wearing blue-gray samurai clothing, his topknot tied with red cord. He smiled at Song Qingtao, “You must be Miss Song. Hello, I’m called Tanaka Jiro. Tanaka Hisatomo is my older brother. Don’t be nervous, we’re friends.”

“Who’s friends with you! Bah.” Song Qingtao spat downward, “If you’re smart, get down the mountain quickly. If you want to pass Qing Village, you’ll have to step over your grandmother’s corpse.”

“Miss Song, you’d better obediently let us pass. I won’t make things difficult for you.”

“Make things difficult? Go ahead and try making things difficult.” Song Qingtao stepped on the wooden box in front of her, arm resting on her thigh, mocking: “That useless bunch at Lei Village couldn’t guard their gate, but your grandmother isn’t a vegetarian.”

Song Ye stumbled up, seeing her speak without restraint, frantically bowed to Tanaka Jiro apologetically: “Sir, please listen to me. Our Miss has a violent temper and speaks without thinking. She doesn’t mean it that way. Please don’t take it seriously, we can discuss anything.”

Song Qingtao grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him straight off the watchtower, shooting him in the back, “Go recognize your Japanese masters, dog. If you want to fight, then fight. What’s the point of all this talk.”

…

Over a hundred people died in Yun Village that night—not just young men, but even the old, weak, women and children couldn’t escape death. All were killed by drugging and assassination while completely defenseless.

Lei Village was occupied by the Japanese. He Feng lacked manpower and couldn’t get through, so he could only take the shortcut up the mountain via the water route.

When he reached Yun Village, He Zhanghui was smoking opium in the great hall. He snatched the opium pipe away, “How can you still be in the mood to smoke!”

He Zhanghui squinted and stood up supporting himself against the tiger skin, “One last puff.”

Chen Rongrong was covered in blood, two fingers cut off. The stronghold’s doctor was dead, so she could only bandage herself, “Those sons of bitches staged a sneak attack, they know our terrain like the back of their hand.”

He Zhanghui took back the opium pipe from He Feng, his muddy voice muffled in his throat, “Little Feng, there’s a traitor in the stronghold.”

…

Fighting broke out at Qing Village, gunshots echoing in the mountain valley.

He Feng led his brothers with their weapons down to provide support.

Seeing him come, Song Qingtao was happy inside but cursed with her mouth, “Who asked for your help! Get lost!”

He Feng ignored her.

Song Qingtao moved closer again, “There aren’t many little devils, but their guns are fast. After we finish fighting, we’ll seize them—all weapons belong to my Qing Village.”

He Feng pushed her aside and took a sniper position, “Move.”

Song Qingtao was unconvinced, “This is my stronghold, what right do you have to tell me to move? You move!”

He Feng didn’t want to waste words with her and didn’t even glance at her.

“Second Uncle and Third Uncle fled as traitors. Song Ye, that dog traitor collaborated with the enemy—I shot him to death. Now I’m in charge of Qing Village.” Song Qingtao stared at him with a sneer, “Where’s your little bed-warmer? Too scared to come out? When there’s danger, it’s still me fighting alongside you. What can that little bitch do besides spread her legs for you to fuck!”

He Feng pushed her aside, “Say another word and I’ll cut out your tongue. Go fight over there.”

“You…” Song Qingtao swallowed her anger and willingly went to set up her gun elsewhere.

…

By the end, both sides had exhausted their ammunition and began fighting with knives and crossbow arrows. The Japanese samurai were well-trained—how could this group of bandits match them? It was almost ten-to-one odds.

Tanaka Hisatomo arrived late on horseback, waiting outside the stronghold. His personal samurai had long been unable to restrain themselves and requested permission to enter battle. Tanaka Hisatomo instructed, “Take them alive.”

The black-clothed samurai raised his sword and headed straight for his target.

He Feng was covered in blood, pressing down on a devil’s head, when he heard someone behind him call his name in broken Chinese: “Boy!”

He Feng turned around and looked at the person in front of him—one of those who had come to the banquet with Tanaka Hisatomo yesterday. He pulled his knife from his victim’s throat, wiped the blood from his face, and sneered, “Looks like you won’t be satisfied until you die by my hand.”

The samurai had followed Tanaka Hisatomo in China for over a year. Though not fluent in Chinese, he could roughly understand what he was saying. He spread his legs apart, gripped his sword with both hands—a series of pre-battle preparation movements flowing like water.

He Feng casually picked up an iron rod. The samurai felt he was being insulted, “Draw your sword!”

He Feng spun the iron rod and thrust it heavily into the ground, “I told you, you’re not worthy of me drawing my blade.”

The samurai became even angrier, lips pressed tight, charging at He Feng with murderous intent. He Feng lifted the rod to meet him, blade and iron sparking where they met.

This samurai looked fat and clumsy, but his swordsmanship was quite sophisticated—his strikes were fast and steady. He Feng underestimated him and was grazed on the left arm by the sword tip, leaving a deep, long gash. He swung the rod to strike, the samurai dodged sideways, using his sword to block and deflect the rod. The samurai looked at the blood on He Feng’s shoulder and sneered, mockingly saying in Chinese: “Waste.”

Using full strength to push away the iron rod, he swung his sword at He Feng’s waist. He Feng leaned back, supported himself with his palm on the ground and sprang up, slipping diagonally under the samurai’s armpit and striking his thigh with the rod. The samurai steadied his footing, gripped his sword firmly and slashed at He Feng again. He Feng only defended without attacking, leading him in circles.

After several rounds, He Feng had figured out his sword patterns.

The samurai became frustrated, baring his teeth and roaring as he slashed horizontally at He Feng’s neck. He Feng leaned back, using the iron rod to support himself on the ground, leveraging it to flip through the air and land behind the samurai, kicking him in the back and immediately following with a strike to his waist.

The samurai staggered several steps, using his sword to scrape the ground and support his body. He raised his long sword high, using his voice to boost his momentum as he charged head-on with a great downward slash, putting all his strength into ending this battle. He Feng dodged to the side, kicked the samurai’s abdomen, and as the samurai’s hands came down, He Feng struck his wrist with the rod, sending his sword flying.

Without his sword, the samurai immediately panicked.

He Feng gave him no chance to react, raising the rod to strike his limbs. The samurai’s screams echoed through the mountains as his bones shattered within his flesh, and he fell heavily, raising a cloud of dust.

He Feng was always ruthless in his attacks, beating the man until death would be preferable to life. The final blow thrust into his throat, gripping the rod and pressing down hard, nearly severing his head.

Suddenly another samurai behind him raised his sword to strike.

“Third Brother!”

He Feng quickly turned around—he could have dodged, but unexpectedly a figure blocked in front of him. He Feng yanked her away and threw out the iron rod, hitting the samurai right between the eyes.

Song Qingtao turned around woodenly and called out: “Third Brother.”

Her face had been slashed diagonally by the sword, from her right eyebrow to her left chin. White flesh curled outward, a piece of her nostril had been sliced off, and her lips were split into four parts. She looked down at herself—blood was gushing from her stomach.

He Feng carried her behind the wall.

He tore off the red cloth strips wrapped around her wrists, using one to wrap her face and another to tie around her stomach.

Song Qingtao tremblingly gripped his hand, “Third Brother.”

“Don’t talk.”

Song Qingtao touched her face, feeling a long, giant groove across it. Blood flowed down her fingers like dense melon rinds, instantly covering her entire hand, “My face.”

The blood flowed too fast—he couldn’t stem the wound on her stomach. He Feng took off his outer jacket to bind her with it.

“Am I going to die soon?”

“No.”

“The Japanese sword really is sharp. I didn’t feel anything just now, but now it hurts so much.” Song Qingtao’s bloody hand gripped his wrist, “Stop bandaging, my intestines are coming out.”

He Feng didn’t listen to her and continued bandaging.

“Third Brother, I did my best, didn’t let the devils in.” Her lips had lost all feeling from the pain, she could only make sounds from her throat, “If only you hadn’t shot my hand, if my right hand could still hold a gun, I wouldn’t have kept missing, I could have killed a few more little devils.” She cried tears of grievance, “My left hand doesn’t obey, I kept missing.”

He Feng frowned, “Stop talking.”

“I need to talk. If I don’t talk now, I’ll never have another chance. You never paid attention to me before, and you’ll pay even less attention to me in the future. Only at this moment will you listen to me talk.” Song Qingtao grabbed his arm, “I’m not that bad either. I just liked you too much. I killed her sister because that little bitch cursed me, saying I was born but not raised properly. You know I hate it most when people say I have no mother.”

The brothers outside were still fighting desperately. He Feng had no mood to listen to her complaints, “Stay here and don’t move, I’ll come back.”

“I won’t wait.” Song Qingtao wouldn’t let him leave, “I saved you, you’ll feel guilty toward me, won’t you? You’ll remember me, won’t you?”

He Feng looked at her split face and nodded.

“I’m so much better than her. Can she help you fight little devils?” Song Qingtao smiled, her lips becoming even more grotesque as they curved from the pulling motion, “She doesn’t deserve you.”

The Japanese had brought machine guns and mortars. He Feng got up amid the strafing sounds.

Song Qingtao hooked his finger, “Third Brother, you’ve never hugged me.”

“Could you hug me just once?… Third Brother.”

…

After Xie Chi woke up, she found both He Feng and Qing Yangzi were gone. She took some money and headed straight to the train station. There was no direct train to Wuxi—she had to go to Nanjing first.

There were still two hours before departure. She clutched her ticket sitting on the long bench, continuously pinching the ticket’s edge. Finally she could leave this place, but she couldn’t feel happy at all.

A married couple sat down beside her. The man peeled an egg and handed it to his wife, his eyes full of doting smile.

In that instant, her tottering rationality finally collapsed in the subtle emotion.

In a moment of impulse, she tore up the ticket and rushed out of the station.

Returning to the hotel, Xie Chi regretted it.

She stayed alone in the hotel, several times wanting to leave, but still wanted to wait for He Feng.

She slept for a day and night without a grain of rice. At night she wanted to go out to find something to eat, but all the shops had closed.

She could only drink water to stave off hunger.

Having slept too much during the day, Xie Chi couldn’t sleep at night and stared at the ceiling in a daze.

What was He Feng doing?

Not showing his face for a whole day—wasn’t he afraid she’d run away?

Some childish petulance grew in her heart. She should have escaped long ago, but stayed for this little rascal, and now he had disappeared without a trace.

What? Had enough sleep? Didn’t want her anymore?

Damn man!

Xie Chi decided right then that if he didn’t appear by dawn, she would go home.

…

The next morning, He Feng still hadn’t appeared.

Xie Chi went out to buy breakfast and returned, asking the hotel owner for paper and pen to leave a note for He Feng.

[I’m going back to Wuxi first]

She nibbled on a steamed bun, looking at these few words.

She shouldn’t write it this way—the word “first” wasn’t good, it seemed like she was waiting for him to come find her.

She crumpled the paper and wrote a new one.

[I’m leaving]

She silently cursed this bandit and tore up the paper again.

[Don’t come looking for me]

…

Xie Chi asked the hotel owner to give the note to He Feng when he returned. She went to the street to buy some dried food, then went to the bus station again.

She held the ticket standing in front of the bus, her eyelid inexplicably twitching.

She turned back to look at the distant mountains, standing there for a long while.

“Are you getting on or not? Are we leaving?”

Xie Chi resolutely turned back, “We’re leaving.”

…