Some things are done knowing they’re wrong, because the desire within is too strong to resist. But some things are done knowing they might lead to death, and those might have nothing to do with desire at all.

Inside the carriage, Mr. Li swayed back and forth and nearly dozed off, thinking to himself that he really had been far too indulgent over the years.

To feel drowsy in an environment like this — what a shameful thing…

He reflected on it: a lone hero, venturing alone into the dragon’s lair and the tiger’s den — how stirring a story would that be to tell?

If that story were serialized, you couldn’t even call it outdated — subscriptions would probably be pretty decent.

But if that lone hero fell asleep and started snoring, got discovered, and the whole thing fell apart — ending with him getting beaten to death by a mob — well, even a storyteller would be embarrassed to tell that tale.

Over the years, Mr. Li had always held to one principle: as long as you never take risks, you’ll never face danger; as long as you have no morals, you can never be held hostage by them.

Yet here, at this moment, the choice he had made violated every principle he lived by.

He didn’t know how much longer the carriage had to travel, but this constant swaying really did make a person unbearably drowsy.

The main problem was that he had lived far too comfortably — he took a nap every afternoon, and that habit had now become a kind of torment.

Under these circumstances, Mr. Li decided he had to think of some way to perk himself up.

He thought and thought, but couldn’t come up with anything particularly good. Pinching his own thigh… he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The inner thigh — so tender. One pinch, so painful.

Then suddenly, a flash of inspiration.

He raised his hand, grabbed a single strand of hair, and yanked it out sharply. It did produce a small sting.

But that level of stimulation was clearly insufficient to truly revive him.

So he reached his hand into his own armpit…

That worked considerably better, as it turned out.

But after barely a quarter of an hour, the drowsiness came crashing back — and with a force that seemed utterly unstoppable.

So Mr. Li reached into his armpit again, thought about it for a moment, and switched sides.

One must be fair about these things, after all.

But evidently even this stimulation wasn’t quite strong enough, so he reached his finger toward his nostril — and ultimately gave up.

First, it was genuinely difficult to get a proper grip. Second, if his nose itched, he wouldn’t be able to hold back a sneeze.

At this point, Mr. Li, struggling within that extremely cramped space, lowered his head and glanced downward at a certain area.

A moment later, a look of grim resolve appeared in Mr. Li’s eyes.

The next instant — his spirits surged.

*Damn it all*, he thought. *Sure enough, some places really do work…*

If someone were to write this episode into a story, a storyteller would probably be embarrassed to tell it too — and if it were serialized, even the mildest description would get censored.

He endured until nearly dark, when the convoy finally came to a halt — but clearly hadn’t reached its destination yet, because the drivers climbed down and gathered together to chat, sounding as though they were eating and resting at the same time.

Mr. Li strained to listen, then felt somewhat disheartened — he heard those men say they were going to travel through the night and wouldn’t be resting tonight.

Mr. Li, who loved sleep above almost anything, had already been so drowsy that afternoon he’d needed to pull out body hair just to keep himself alert… if night was going to be even harder to endure, what then?

Mr. Li figured that if they were going to be on the road for three to five days, forget whether he’d doze himself to death — he might just yank himself bald.

Going bald from yanking… now that would be truly shameful…

Then Mr. Li thought of an academic question.

This question had puzzled him once before, and now that it came to mind again, he might as well use it to pass the time.

Mr. Li pondered: human hair grows continuously — if you went your entire life without cutting your hair, the length it could reach would be staggering.

The same for a beard — if you never shaved your whole life, reaching at least chest level wouldn’t be a problem, surely.

So why, then — why do some things grow to a certain length and stop?

Yes. He was thinking of eyelashes.

“Lord Qilu!”

Just then, he heard the people outside call out in unison, and he immediately held his breath and focused intently.

Whoever was addressed as *Lord* must be the leader.

A figure in a long robe appeared among the convoy — materializing like a ghost, appearing suddenly, with no one having seen from which direction he came.

The middle-aged man addressed as Lord Qilu swept his gaze around before asking: “Nothing strange happened along the way?”

Someone answered: “The whole journey passed without incident.”

Qilu gave a low sound of acknowledgment, then began to move. Mr. Li heard footsteps — faint, drawing closer from a distance — as though he was inspecting each vehicle in turn.

So Mr. Li let out a quiet sigh in his heart, thinking it was probably impossible to hide from this.

“Leave this carriage behind. Take the rest of the vehicles and go. Make sure you reach the place Yanyun instructed by early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes!”

The group responded in unison, followed by the sounds of horses and wheels in motion.

But the carriage Mr. Li was in didn’t move at all — which told Mr. Li that he had been discovered.

“You haven’t always been this bold, have you.”

He heard the person outside speaking — clearly directed at him.

Mr. Li didn’t respond. He was waiting for the other party to make the first move.

Though he appeared trapped inside the carriage, in truth, these crates had also become a layer of protection.

If he moved first, the other person would have the advantage. If he moved second, *he* would have the advantage.

“I won’t be making a move on you.”

The person outside seemed to have walked some distance away — his voice growing increasingly distant, stopping perhaps several zhang out.

Mr. Li had no choice but to lift the canvas cover from over his head, sit up, and look around in all directions. Only this single carriage remained. A figure in a long robe stood watching him from a distance.

Mr. Li climbed down from the carriage and rummaged through it, finding no food — which left him somewhat disappointed.

His behavior left Lord Qilu feeling rather helpless.

“I want to have a conversation with you.”

Qilu said to Mr. Li.

Mr. Li asked: “Did you bring anything to eat?”

Qilu: “…”

After a brief silence, he turned the question around: “If I gave you food, would you dare eat it?”

Mr. Li found a water flask, picked it up, opened the cap, and sniffed it — then tossed it aside: “*Damn…*”

Qilu: “…”

Mr. Li: “Are the people in your group sick? Is it really that hard to get off and relieve themselves somewhere proper?”

Qilu: “That would be an indecent thing to do.”

Mr. Li: “…”

Qilu removed the water flask from his own belt and threw it to Mr. Li. Mr. Li opened it, sniffed — and it was actually liquor.

He seemed not the least bit worried it might be poisoned, tilted his head back, and gulped it down in great swallows.

Then he tossed the flask back toward Qilu. Qilu didn’t catch it; it dropped to the side.

Qilu tilted his head and looked at it: “I have a thing about cleanliness. Anything someone else has used, I won’t use again.”

Mr. Li: “Have you always been this peculiar?”

Qilu: “…”

Mr. Li asked: “What did you want to talk about?”

Qilu: “About how you might go about killing me… no, about how you might go about killing all of us.”

Mr. Li frowned.

Qilu walked to one side, where there was a large stone. He took out a handkerchief, wiped it down, sat on it — and then fell silent again.

Neither man spoke. After a long while, Qilu asked: “What are you waiting for?”

Mr. Li: “I remember a joke — wipe the stone before sitting, then let out a fart after sitting down. That’s the complete procedure.”

Qilu: “Flatulence is an unruly thing. When you want to summon it, it may not respond. When you’d rather it didn’t appear, it might force its way out — like when you’re on a date with a young lady.”

Mr. Li: “Fortunately, that dilemma isn’t exclusive to men. Women likely face the same awkward moments.”

Qilu: “You’re an interesting person. What field did you study?”

Mr. Li: “Medicine.”

Qilu: “That’s good… which specialty?”

Mr. Li: “General practice.”

Qilu’s eyes narrowed: “So probably veterinary medicine, then.”

Mr. Li: “Let’s talk about something else.”

Qilu asked: “If I told you right now that I want you to kill me — would you believe me?”

Mr. Li: “If you truly wanted to die, why haven’t you taken your own life?”

Qilu shook his head: “Suicide… is even harder than summoning a fart. I’ve tried. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring myself to go through with it.”

Mr. Li said: “Tell me about your group. After you’ve told me, I’ll consider whether or not to kill you.”

Qilu said: “There’s nothing much to say. We just made mistakes. I don’t want to tell stories — it’s too much trouble.”

Mr. Li nodded and reached into his inner robe, producing a tiny jade bottle, which he tossed over: “Poison. If you want to die, take it. I’ll consider it the same as killing you myself.”

Qilu caught the bottle, opened it, and sniffed it. Then he tipped out several small pills from inside.

He asked: “Is it bitter?”

Mr. Li: “No idea. Haven’t tried it.”

Qilu popped the pills into his mouth. He had no water, no liquor left, so swallowing them proved difficult.

So he began to chew — and it appeared to genuinely taste awful; his brow furrowed deeply.

Chewing as he spoke, he said: “Even as a child I was like this — no matter how small a pill, I couldn’t swallow it. No amount of water helped. The pill would just roll around in my mouth. My mother scolded me so harshly over it that eventually I gritted my teeth and chewed the pills to bits and swallowed them. I’d rather endure that bitterness than tolerate a pill spinning stubbornly around inside my mouth.”

He finished them.

Then he walked to the carriage. Under Mr. Li’s watchful gaze, he pulled the canvas cover off and spread it on the ground.

He lay down on the canvas, carefully smoothed out his own clothing, closed his eyes, and waited.

Waited for death.

Mr. Li stared, stunned. No matter how he had imagined this scenario, he had never anticipated encountering a person like this.

While resisting drowsiness inside the carriage, he hadn’t only been pulling out his own body hair — he’d also been running through everything that might happen next in his mind.

If those people were all skilled fighters — or even if they possessed weapons beyond what this era had known — how would he handle it? How would he kill the enemy?

But he had never once imagined that the enemy might want to die themselves.

“Are you playing some kind of trick?”

Mr. Li asked.

Qilu opened his eyes: “You *bastard*, you tricked me?!”

Mr. Li: “Why would I be carrying poison on me for no reason?”

Qilu: “Then what was that thing?!”

Mr. Li: “Do you feel somewhat warm?”

Qilu: “*Oh, come on!*”

He sat bolt upright: “Are you insane?!”

Mr. Li sighed: “Not only are you foolish, but you’ve got a filthy mind too. Did you think it was some kind of… unseemly thing? It was nothing but deer antler pills — for nourishing the body.”

Qilu stared at him.

Mr. Li asked: “Why do you want to die so badly? If you want to die so desperately, why wait until now? You could have found anyone to kill you — just don’t resist, and that’s that. It doesn’t have to be me.”

Qilu stood up, raised a hand, and traced a circle in the air.

Mr. Li frowned: “What does that mean?”

“From beginning to end.”

Qilu answered.

He tilted his head back toward the sky: “You know — there’s no going back. Either way, it ends in death. If I die by your hand… for you, that would be a kind of completion. Perhaps if we all die by your hand, you’ll be able to go back. You’re not like us — you should go back.”

Mr. Li: “You said yourself — there’s no going back.”

Qilu: “Yes, no going back… but I want to do one good thing. What if, by some chance, it works?”

He looked at Mr. Li, his voice heavy: “Think about it — who among people like us, who did what we did, started out wanting to be a villain?”

Mr. Li: “But you already are villains.”

Qilu fell silent.

After a long moment, he let out a slow breath: “Yes… when we were young, our teachers taught us: *it is easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but hard to return from extravagance to frugality; it is easy to go from good to bad, but hard to return from bad to good…*”

He removed his long robe, folded it neatly, then sat cross-legged on the ground, facing Mr. Li: “Kill me.”

—