The mountain ridge had an extremely inauspicious name. Located at the edge of the plains, this abruptly rising mountain was constantly swept by southwestern winds that bent all the lantern trees to one side. The entire mountain range filled with these crooked-necked trees looked like death traps prepared for desperate souls, causing onlookers to shudder with fear. Thus it earned a sinister name—”Hanging Death Ridge.”

But some said the reason it was called Hanging Death Ridge was because of the bandits on this mountain who engaged in every imaginable crime: robbing homes, plundering villages, killing, and kidnapping. Those unfortunate enough to be dragged up the mountain faced only two fates: men lost their wealth, women lost their virtue. In despair, hanging oneself became the best way out. Those lucky enough not to die were mostly driven mad, spending their days babbling incoherently at the foot of the mountain. Before being shot dead by bandits using them as arrow targets, they would either mutter about the money they had saved throughout their lives, or speak to themselves about relatives they once lived with daily but would never see again.

At this very moment, Qiao Henian felt he too was going mad! He held a cup of turbid wine in his hands, standing in the bandits’ assembly hall, watching the demonic revelry and wild drinking before him. Though his face bore a smile, his mood was so irritated and anxious that he wanted to burn down this entire mountain stronghold with a single fire.

“Military Advisor!” A coarse voice rang out nearby. Qiao Henian, who had been somewhat dazed, felt his heart tighten as he gripped his cup and looked to the side.

“The Ma family shop’s defenses were tight as a drum. Our brothers attacked three times before, losing dozens of lives without taking it down. This time, thanks to the Military Advisor’s strategy, what was it called again?” The coarse-voiced man speaking had bulging eyes and broken eyebrows, revealing a mouth full of gleaming white teeth.

“Oh, reporting to the Chief, this strategy is called ‘making noise in the east while attacking in the west.'” Qiao Henian bowed slightly, answering with lowered brows and submissive eyes.

“That’s right!” The coarse-voiced man was Qiu Xiong, chief of the Hanging Death Ridge bandits, who went by the alias “Living Judge.” He slammed the table forcefully, and the bandits in the assembly hall immediately fell silent.

“Brothers, did you all have dreams last night?” Qiu Xiong’s next words were completely unexpected.

“Yes!” Having completed this major business, with wine and meat available—the wine being excellent Huadiao vintage looted from the Ma family’s wine cellar—one leader who had drunk an entire jar was already quite intoxicated and responded drunkenly.

“I dreamed we did another big job and captured the county town. The gold and silver mountains in the government treasury were there for the taking, hehe.”

The bandits burst into laughter with a “roar,” and someone joined in the fun: “Then I also had a dream. I dreamed we caught the Ma family’s eldest daughter who escaped, and the Chief was so pleased he rewarded her to me. That very night we entered the bridal chamber…” This weasel-faced bandit smacked his lips as he spoke, as if deeply regretting this was merely a spring dream.

“You’re really fucking dreaming! The Ma family’s eldest daughter is the famous Xi Shi of ten villages around. Even if we took turns, it wouldn’t be yours—she’d have to be the Chief’s mountain wife.” A chorus of curses erupted around him.

“I also had a dream!” Qiu Xiong listened for a long while before speaking in a deep voice: “I dreamed I was bound at the execution ground. A red signature was thrown down, the executioner swung his blade forcefully, and my head rolled on the ground. After spinning three circles, it still stared at the headless corpse on the execution platform.” As he spoke, he touched his own neck.

This dream was too inauspicious. Mountain bandits engaged in deadly business, living on the edge of blades, and were extremely superstitious with many taboos. Killing and kidnapping was called “setting up stakes,” being captured and sent to the execution ground was called “cultivating the next life,” and if subjected to death by a thousand cuts, it was called “donning the great red robe to ascend to heaven.” Now hearing Qiu Xiong speak so bluntly, the bandits large and small looked at each other, not knowing how to respond. This Chief was famous for killing at the drop of a hat—if one said the wrong thing, they might not keep their life on the spot. “Better to say nothing than say something wrong”—everyone had this same thought, and the assembly hall immediately fell silent as a grave.

“When I woke up, I wondered: if I, Qiu, really had my head chopped off, which crime would it be for? Was it for massacring Little Seven Camp the year before last, or for chopping off the hands and feet of those grain merchants last year who tried to sneak through on back roads at night without paying passage fees? Or perhaps yesterday’s great victory, when we also slaughtered quite a few from the Ma family shop. The women were distributed to the brothers to sleep with, and the men all had their bellies cut open and hearts dug out to avenge our dead brothers.”

Still no one dared to respond, but fortunately Qiu Xiong didn’t need their answers and instead turned to Qiao Henian.

“The Military Advisor has already interpreted this dream for me. Military Advisor, tell everyone again.”

“Yes.” Qiao Henian gently set down his wine cup and scanned the entire gathering. His heart remained irritated and resentful, but his mind was clear—if anyone detected his unusual intentions, forget about escaping alive; immediate execution would be the cheapest and most painless way to die.

“Endure!” Qiao Henian made up his mind, took a deep breath, and addressed these wide-eyed bandits: “The Chief is a malevolent star descended from heaven, with heavy evil energy. Dreaming of executions is commonplace and shouldn’t cause alarm.” He shifted his tone, “However, dream omens shouldn’t be taken lightly either. Everyone knows that on the fifth of last month, a stronghold fifty li away was broken by Green Standard troops. How those heroes in the stronghold were dealt with, I’m sure you all understand.”

At this point, everyone including Qiu Xiong changed color. When Green Standard troops suppressed bandits, if they couldn’t win they would massacre some innocent civilians in nearby villages and towns, claiming them as bandits for merit. If they could win, they would leave no survivors, aiming to privately pocket the stolen goods, so they couldn’t leave witnesses alive.

“If such a day truly comes, I’m afraid even hoping for the execution ground would be difficult.” This statement from Qiao Henian was no alarmist talk. The stronghold he just mentioned had over a hundred bandits of all ranks who, seeing the government forces were powerful, had already surrendered. Yet every one was pushed into a large pit and burned alive with oil. The officials reported upward that “the bandits were fierce and stubborn, resisting pacification, and gathered to burn themselves to death.”

“Hmph!” Qiu Xiong had already felt uneasy after last night’s ominous dream, and Qiao Henian’s few words made his expression even more gloomy. Within fifty li, there were no other strongholds besides Hanging Death Ridge—the government forces’ next target would probably be here. “If government troops really come to attack the stronghold, I’ll break even killing one, profit by killing two, but I won’t surrender!”

“Right, we can’t surrender. We can’t do such a cowardly thing.” The bandits responded one after another.

“Hehe!” Qiao Henian suddenly laughed, his laughter particularly jarring amid the indignation.

“Military Advisor, what are you laughing about?”

“Chief, may I ask: when both sides attack and defend each other, why are they government soldiers while we are bandits?”

“This… isn’t this obvious?” Qiu Xiong didn’t understand his meaning and frowned.

“No! These are chaotic times—what seems obvious isn’t necessarily correct! Who are soldiers and who are bandits depends on who has greater power. Those with troops, provisions, and winning battles are government forces; those without troops, provisions, and losing battles are bandits. As the saying goes: ‘Those who steal hooks are executed, those who steal kingdoms become feudal lords.'” Having said this in one breath, Qiao Henian saw the bandits all staring at him wide-eyed and realized these men couldn’t recognize a basketful of characters, let alone understand Zhuangzi’s words. After thinking, he said: “For example, Hong Xiuquan, the Heavenly King now sitting in Jinling, was also called a bandit by government forces when he first rose in Guangxi. But now? He’s become emperor, and the government forces have become ‘Qing demons.'”

This everyone could understand. Qiu Xiong seemed to comprehend something, leaning forward with gleaming eyes: “You mean…”

“Since ancient times, those who rely on dangerous terrain for defense have never avoided defeat—we cannot sit and wait for death!” Qiao Henian spoke decisively. He had long planned this move. If he continued staying at Hanging Death Ridge, he would either perish with the bandits when government forces attacked, or spend his life as a mountain bandit military advisor. Neither outcome was acceptable to him—he couldn’t die in peace or live with satisfaction.

“We attack the county town. Once we take the county town, all the large and small strongholds in the nearby mountains will pledge allegiance to us. When our power grows, we’ll use our troops to help the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom win a battle, then surrender to them. At that time, Chief Qiu will become Prince Qiu, receiving a fief where you can collect taxes and judge cases yourself. As for who goes to the execution ground, won’t that be the Chief’s decision then?”

These few words painted a brilliant future. Qiu Xiong was originally a crude, illiterate brute who achieved his leadership position solely through some martial arts training and ruthless killing. Now hearing such words from this military advisor who had already helped the stronghold succeed in several major operations, he was immediately overjoyed. Just as he was about to respond, Qiao Henian continued: “In chaotic times without a master, the bold become kings. As for the brothers currently in this hall, they would be founding ministers in the future. When the Chief becomes a prince, surely these brothers who risked their lives wouldn’t go without official positions?”

“Naturally!” Qiu Xiong agreed immediately. He was already floating as if seated on the throne, gesturing grandly: “At minimum, they’d be generals and governors.”

“Generals?”

“Governors?”

The bandits looked at each other’s faces. These men, born from grass roots and turned bandits, originally thought that living meant killing and arson, and dying meant being lucky to have a straw mat for burial. Now, just by taking a county town, they could have the fate of high officials. They immediately cheered thunderously, and some flatterers were already rushing forward with cups to toast “Prince Qiu.” Qiu Xiong was delighted, accepting all comers. Soon he was thoroughly drunk, and when being helped to the back hall, he still remembered to heavily pat Qiao Henian’s shoulder.

“Military Advisor, uh, taking the county town won’t be easy. Plan this well for me. After success, I’ll be Liu Bei, and you… you’ll be Zhuge Liang.”

“Yes, Chief, please rest assured.” Qiao Henian respectfully lowered his head. Even if someone stared at him, they wouldn’t notice the cold smile at the corner of his mouth.

However, he didn’t know that after Qiu Xiong was helped into the back hall, his consciousness suddenly cleared somewhat, and he whispered instructions to his attendants: “Before we really do big business, don’t forget to give Military Advisor Qiao some courage!”

From Shanxi to Huizhou, one couldn’t avoid crossing the Yellow River. Gu Pingyuan’s revered teacher had once served as a minor river management official in Kaifeng, experiencing the great breach during the Daoguang years, serving the country loyally and nearly dying for the river cause. Gu Pingyuan had heard this story since childhood. Calculating his journey, he specifically chose to cross the Yellow River at Kaifeng heading south.

Gu Pingyuan was always calculating, knowing he was a fugitive in dangerous territory. He had long prepared a personal silk pouch containing several accumulated banknotes. This pouch never left his side, prepared for the unknown moment when he might need to flee immediately—and now it truly came in handy.

Though the journey required considerable expenses, he smoothly boarded a ferry at the dock and sailed into the Yellow River’s waves. Yet Gu Pingyuan’s heart remained heavy—he had too many concerns. First, he had given over half of Li Chuang’s treasure to Wang Tiangui. Not only had he failed to eliminate this evil completely, but he had allowed Wang Tiangui to escape death. After this incident, the two had become mortal enemies. Though Wang Tiangui had lost all his registered businesses, with his capabilities and several million taels of silver in hand, who knew what he might do. But in that situation, he had no choice but to make an immediate decision—delaying even a moment would have cost Chang Yu’er her life at Li Qin’s hands.

This led him to think of Chang Yu’er. Sitting on the Yellow River ferry, Gu Pingyuan reached into his robe, intending to take out Chang Yu’er’s emerald green jade thumb ring, but his hand touched Bai Yimei’s jade hairpin instead. His heart ached, and he slowly withdrew his hand. Chang Yu’er had willingly used her body as collateral with Wang Tiangui—Gu Pingyuan understood her motivation as clearly as if he had swallowed a firefly. If a young woman wasn’t deeply in love, how could she make such a gesture? Yet this affection seemed destined to be disappointed. Thinking of Chang Yu’er waking at home to find no trace of him, Gu Pingyuan’s fleeting joy at escaping captivity vanished completely.

Then there were the Beijing merchants. Zhang Guangfa had died in Shanxi. Though not killed by his own hand, he couldn’t escape responsibility. The Beijing merchants had vast wealth and power—dealing with him would be effortless. The truth of that old mystery case would likely be buried forever with this Beijing merchant chief steward.

Gu Pingyuan sighed deeply. Meanwhile, he also worried about his mother and siblings back home. Kaifeng dock was where north and south converged. Gu Pingyuan chose to cross here partly to honor his teacher’s past benevolent achievements, and partly to gather information about his hometown’s war situation from the traveling merchants and passengers.

The news he gathered was extremely troubling. At a teahouse by the dock, Gu Pingyuan encountered a traveling merchant from Anhui. He spoke a few sentences in Huizhou dialect, and the other man felt immediate kinship hearing his native accent. Gu Pingyuan played host, and through their conversation learned that half a month ago, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom’s Heroic King Chen Yucheng, with secret cooperation from local rebel leader Miao Peilin in Huizhou, had achieved a second victory at Sanhe Town. Three years later, they had once again captured this military stronghold. Anhui Governor Yuan Jiasan, defeated in battle, retreated to defend Luzhou. The court, receiving this report in great alarm, had already deployed General Duolonga from the Jiangbei Grand Camp and the Tingzi Battalion of the Hunan Army for urgent reinforcement.

“This is terrible.” The traveling merchant kept shaking his head in lamentation. Originally, the Jiangbei and Jiangnan Grand Camps had surrounded Nanjing so tightly that not even water could leak through. Now the Taiping’s Heroic King Chen Yucheng had taken Sanhe Town and was pressing toward Luzhou Prefecture, while the Loyal King Li Xiucheng led troops threatening Hangzhou—clearly employing the strategy of besieging Wei to save Zhao. But the government forces couldn’t ignore this. If these two fertile regions of Zhejiang and Anhui fell into Taiping hands, even capturing Nanjing and seizing Hong Xiuquan wouldn’t help the overall situation.

“Add to this the Wing King Shi Dakai’s continuous victories attacking Sichuan, and peaceful days seem far off indeed.” The traveling merchant drained his cup, his expression dejected.

Naturally, Gu Pingyuan’s heart grew heavier hearing this. He had planned to stay at the dock for a day to see the river management relics, but now he made an immediate decision. Just as a grain ship was preparing to cross, he paid the high price of three taels of silver and boarded immediately.

“Hold steady there!” Just as Gu Pingyuan was lost in thought, he suddenly heard the helmsman’s loud shout and saw a dark, snake-like object rushing toward the side of the boat. Caught off guard and startled, he leaned backward and nearly fell into the river.

The helmsman remained calm, using his oar to gently guide the boat alongside the “snake,” and the vessel barely trembled.

Gu Pingyuan collected himself and looked carefully—it wasn’t a snake at all, but a thick iron chain stretching to both shores. Curious about the situation on shore and why this river-locking iron cable existed, Gu Pingyuan couldn’t help asking the helmsman.

“Now that’s a long story. I wasn’t around then, but helmsmen of my father’s generation all remember the great Yellow River breach over thirty years ago.” Helmsmen were talkative folk. Once the conversation started, there was no stopping them. He spoke endlessly about the old breach, describing iron boats in trees, cattle floating eighty li, women giving birth in the river—he wouldn’t stop. Seeing him taking forever to reach the point, Gu Pingyuan grew impatient and coughed. But the helmsman was displeased.

“Sir, don’t think what I’m saying is irrelevant. Without that terrible breach back then, where would this Iron Bodhisattva come from?”

“Iron Bodhisattva?”

“Exactly. Originally, both sides of the Kaifeng riverbank had massive iron oxen at the ferry crossings, called River-Pacifying Generals. But the breach in the Daoguang Emperor’s year swept both iron oxen into the river sand, making them like deaf men’s ears—mere decorations!” When the waters receded, people said the iron oxen had been swept to the riverbed, lost their ox nature, and would be useless even if retrieved. But the river management minister sent by the court insisted on salvaging them, and though people didn’t understand why, they had to comply.

After retrieving the iron oxen, the river management minister revealed the answer. One of his subordinate clerks had proposed forging the iron oxen into an iron cable, so that no matter how fierce the Yellow River’s waves became, ferry boats could travel safely along the cable, avoiding the age-old disasters of capsizing and drowning.

The river management minister accepted this proposal and assigned the task to that clerk. This man truly lived up to expectations, barely sleeping for thirty days and nights, standing guard by the furnace in blazing heat to forge an incredibly sturdy iron cable. Fixed to the shore with ten-foot iron spikes and equipped with winches for raising and lowering, it had worked flawlessly for thirty years, saving countless lives with this single iron cable.

At this point, the helmsman’s voice carried a hint of pride: “This boat was passed down from my father. According to him, it once carried the White Official who made this iron cable, through wind and waves, crossing the river countless times. He was truly a meritorious minister.”

“White Official?” Gu Pingyuan’s heart stirred, and his voice couldn’t help trembling.

The helmsman, completely unaware, continued enthusiastically: “White Xiuye, Master White! There’s a shrine to him on the other shore. Sir, if you’re not in a hurry, you can visit after disembarking.”

But he received no response for a long while. The helmsman turned curiously and was startled to see the young man with reddened eyes and tears glimmering, stroking the boat’s side while mumbling something inaudibly.

“Sir, what’s wrong with you…”

Gu Pingyuan couldn’t contain his excitement and blurted out: “The Master White you mentioned is my teacher.”

“Oh my!” The helmsman, who dealt with people year-round, could distinguish truth from falsehood at a glance. Seeing Gu Pingyuan’s expression, he knew it was no lie. “You’re Master White’s disciple?! Oh dear, and here I charged you three taels of silver.” He pulled out the silver, trying to return it to Gu Pingyuan. “This won’t do, I can’t accept this money. If people knew I took your silver, my colleagues would curse me to death, and my father would beat me to death when I got home. Please, take your money back.”

Gu Pingyuan instinctively refused: “Boatman, let me ask you—did your father ever mention whether my teacher paid boat fare when he rode your family’s boat?”

The helmsman paused, thought for a moment, and answered: “He did mention it—never short-changed the fare, not a single wen less. My father argued until his face was red, but it was no use.”

Gu Pingyuan smiled, knowing that with his teacher’s honest and incorruptible nature, he would never ride without paying.

“I’m returning to Huizhou now. If I took a boat without paying fare, how could I face my teacher?” Gu Pingyuan spoke unhurriedly but with firm resolve.

“Well…” The helmsman could see this young man wasn’t easily swayed. He scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly: “Three taels was too much. To be honest, I saw you were in a hurry to leave, so I inflated the price. Grain boats don’t carry passengers—when we make exceptions, it’s usually five hundred wen at most. Let me refund the extra.”

“No!” Gu Pingyuan waved his hand again. “Crossing the river is also business—you sell, I buy. The agreed price was paid in full, how can it be changed!”

“This…” The helmsman scratched his head, surprised that this gentle-faced young man could speak such irrefutable logic. He laughed: “Sir, please don’t take offense at what I’m about to say. Master White was an official, but you seem like a businessman.”

Gu Pingyuan smiled broadly: “You’re quite right. I am indeed a businessman, so I know money isn’t easily earned, and wanting to earn more isn’t wrong. You said earlier you inflated the price, but actually not so. Business requires vision—you could see I was eager to cross and willing to pay more. Ultimately, this is earning money through your insight, and you can take it with complete peace of mind.”

The helmsman was delighted: “Actually, our family has a tradition—poor people crossing urgently pay nothing, and if they’re hungry or sick, we give them a few wen. The boat fare falls on wealthy passengers. Earlier I saw your fine clothes and thought I’d supplement our income with a few extra taels.”

“This too is robbing the rich to help the poor, taking with principle.” The casual conversation lifted Gu Pingyuan’s spirits somewhat, and he asked about the southward journey after crossing the Yellow River.

“Once you leave Henan, be extra careful. South of Henan isn’t peaceful—government forces and Taipings are fighting like a pot of porridge.” Yellow River helmsmen had the most current information and advised without reservation: “I’ve heard from passing officials that court armies have surrounded Nanjing completely, but even grasshoppers jump three times before dying, let alone Taipings with hundreds of thousands of troops. Now Taipings outside Nanjing are shouting to save the Heavenly King, but with Nanjing surrounded by the Jiangnan and Jiangbei Grand Camps like an iron barrel, how could it be so easily penetrated? But truly, these Taipings have capable people—instead of attacking Nanjing, they specifically target prosperous cities in Jiangnan, knowing the court will surely divide forces for rescue, creating opportunities to exploit.”

This corroborated the traveling merchant’s words, and Gu Pingyuan’s brow unconsciously furrowed again.

“One more thing—after crossing, stick to main roads, avoid small paths.”

“Why is that?” Gu Pingyuan’s plans were exactly opposite. As a fugitive, he most feared encountering official inspections, so he intended to take mountain wilderness paths southward after crossing the Yellow River.

“On main roads when you encounter government troops or Taipings, they’re assembled in formations—seeing their banners from afar, you can avoid them. On small paths there are highway robbers and bandits lying in ambush behind rocks and earthen mounds—there’s no avoiding them. Moreover, government troops want money and Taipings want to conscript soldiers—in other words, neither wants your life. But bandits are different—one hand takes money while the other hand passes you a knife. They’re ruthless.”

Because of the helmsman’s words, Gu Pingyuan completely changed his plans and specifically chose main roads. Being naturally shrewd, he avoided several battlefields on his southward journey, though this meant taking many detours. When encountering government checkpoints, he hid when possible, and when he couldn’t hide, he used silver to clear the way. This proved universally effective, and he entered Anhui safely without incident.

Unexpectedly, trouble arose as soon as he entered Anhui!

Reaching Shifozhuang near Lu’an, Gu Pingyuan encountered a group of defeated Green Standard troops with bloodshot eyes who wanted to steal his horse. From their appearance, they also planned to frame him as a Taiping and kill him to silence him. Seeing the situation was bad, Gu Pingyuan abandoned his horse and dove diagonally into the forest to escape. Unfortunately, misfortunes never come singly—in the forest he accidentally stepped on an animal trap. His ankle was bloodied and seriously injured, making movement impossible. Fortunately, the hunter who set the trap came to check his catch that day. Seeing he had accidentally trapped a traveler, the hunter felt terribly sorry and helped Gu Pingyuan back home, applied wound medicine, and nursed him for several days.

Gu Pingyuan had matters on his mind and couldn’t rest peacefully. As soon as he could walk a little, he requested to leave. The hunter’s persuasions were useless, so he could only help find a cart going to the distant county town to sell mountain goods, giving Gu Pingyuan a ride to town where he could buy a mount.

The cart bumped along until they reached the largest county town south of Lu’an and north of Anqing—Pingtian County.

Gu Pingyuan inquired about the county’s inns from the cart owner, then limped to a small inn called “Liuhou Lodge” to stay. Being injured and traveling alone, two things couldn’t be neglected: first, wealth mustn’t be exposed; second, injuries and illness couldn’t be taken lightly. So he specifically requested a private upper room, planning to delay another day to consult a famous doctor for wound medicine to use on the road.

The inn staff saw Gu Pingyuan was generous and also commissioned them to buy horses and dry provisions—all profitable errands—so they naturally tried their best to please him. They introduced a hereditary doctor from the county to make a house call. One dose of wound medicine was coolly penetrating to the bone, and walking immediately became much easier.

Gu Pingyuan was restless by nature. These past days, with his injured leg hampering movement and lying in bed all day, he felt suffocated. Now feeling slightly better, he ate dinner early and went out to stroll the streets. Anqing was already not far from Huizhou. Hearing the Huizhou accent throughout the streets immediately stirred up homesickness in Gu Pingyuan’s belly. He felt all the people on the street were dear and respectable, and he could never see enough of them.

Walking not far, he suddenly spotted a familiar face. Though familiar, they had only just met—it was Zhou, the cart owner who came to the county to sell mountain goods. Through casual conversation on the road, Gu Pingyuan learned he was formerly a hunter who was accidentally shot in the waist by a companion’s shotgun during a hunt and could no longer climb mountains. Being honest and trustworthy, the hunters collectively decided to give him the profitable job of selling goods in the county town, helping support his family from starvation. This Old Zhou was truly an honest man—others with such opportunities would generally take some kickbacks or skim profits, but he never kept anything private, always returning exactly what he sold and only earning a delivery fee, never taking more than his due.

Gu Pingyuan especially respected such merchants. Seeing him laughing and chatting on the road earlier but now standing by the street with a worried expression, Gu Pingyuan knew he had encountered difficulties and stepped forward to ask: “Uncle Zhou, didn’t you say you planned to sell your goods and return overnight? How come…” Gu Pingyuan looked at the cart, seeing it still piled high with goods, clearly showing the merchandise wasn’t selling well.

“More than not selling well—no one’s buying!” Old Zhou was so anxious his eyes were red.

“I heard you say mountain goods are in demand, especially your cart of fine quality goods that have gained some reputation in the county over the years, never worrying about sales each visit. How is there no interest this time?”

“Sigh! It’s all because of those damned bandits.” Old Zhou stamped his foot.

It turned out that with the war between government forces and Taipings, local panic immediately arose. The prices of daily necessities like rice, flour, grain, oil, and salt skyrocketed. Regardless of family size, everyone hoarded supplies. With only so much silver in the market, all spent on grain and oil, naturally other merchants had hard times. To make matters worse, bandits came to exploit the chaos, and very boldly too—they dared snatch people on the streets in broad daylight, then ride fast horses out of the city. This counted as one job, requiring anywhere from dozens to thousands of taels for ransom. Even worse, Old Zhou heard that bandits had burned down one wealthy household, then when the family came out to fight the fire, they swarmed in to hack and kill, looting considerable wealth before retreating unscathed. So now all the wealthy households in the county lived in constant fear, and the markets were even more deserted.

“This trip has been wasted. A wasted trip wouldn’t matter much, but… but so many old brothers trust me to sell goods in the county town. Adults and children are eagerly waiting for me, yet I’m returning empty-handed while they’re all waiting for rice to cook. How… how can I explain this?” Old Zhou was at his wit’s end, holding his head and sighing.

Gu Pingyuan thought for a moment and patted Old Zhou’s shoulder: “Don’t panic. Your cart of goods isn’t unsellable—you’re just selling them the wrong way. Listen to me, and I guarantee you can set out for home tomorrow morning.”

“How… what way?” Old Zhou stared wide-eyed at Gu Pingyuan.

“Naturally by selling the goods and taking silver home.”

“What selling method?” Old Zhou’s eyes grew even wider.

“When you came to the county before, did you just stand at the market street waiting for customers to come?”

“Right.”

“That method worked before because your goods are good—time reveals character, and your reputation was established, so naturally you could wait for customers. But today is different from the past. If you still sell this way, your entire cart could rot and still not sell. You need to change your selling method.”

“Change?”

“Right, you need to ‘hawk your wares’!”

Old Zhou was troubled: “This is the city—once I reach the county town, I can’t open my mouth.”

Gu Pingyuan had already seen this honest man couldn’t speak up: “If you can open your mouth to hawk, this cart of goods can be sold. Otherwise, you’ll have to take it back unchanged.”

“Alright, Young Master Gu, you’re an educated man—I trust you. Whatever you say to do, I’ll do. I’ll call for customers now!” Thinking of the poor brothers in the mountains, Old Zhou couldn’t care about embarrassment anymore.

“Wait, wait… not here. There are no customers for you here—even if you shout yourself hoarse, it won’t help.” Gu Pingyuan had long calculated this. After asking Old Zhou some questions, he had him lead the mule and pull the cart to the county’s southwest.

“These are all wealthy households’ residences. Look, it’s getting dark. If we hawk here and upset them, being bitten by dogs would be light—if they send a visiting card to the yamen, we can’t afford that lawsuit.” Old Zhou was honest and timid, his legs trembling slightly.

“Don’t worry. Not only will I not harm you, but even if—I haven’t left either. If there’s a lawsuit, I’ll take the lead. You just focus on loudly attracting customers.”

With Gu Pingyuan’s repeated encouragement, Old Zhou’s courage gradually grew. He took a deep breath and shouted loudly: “Mountain goods from Shifozhuang! Come buy mountain goods!”

This sudden shout caught even Gu Pingyuan off guard, startling him greatly. He never imagined Old Zhou had such powerful lung capacity—probably developed from shouting in the mountains. The shout made Gu Pingyuan’s ears ring, and as he recovered, he heard the previously silent street immediately become lively.

First came dog barking—dogs of all sizes throughout the street barked frantically. Then lanterns were lit from various mansion corners, illuminating the street center, with various shouts coming from different directions. Though different, they mostly involved the four words “report to officials” and “catch thieves.”

Old Zhou’s face turned green with fright. He stared at Gu Pingyuan tremblingly, afraid he might run away, muttering: “What to do, what to do?”

Gu Pingyuan remained calm and waved his hand: “Don’t be afraid. They just heard that shout without understanding its meaning. With that voice of yours, shout a few more times.”

“Shout more?!” Old Zhou was nearly crying.

“If you don’t shout, that would truly cause trouble. Once they listen carefully, they’ll naturally know it was a false alarm, and the strange situation will resolve itself.”

Old Zhou followed Gu Pingyuan’s advice and really did open his throat to call out several more times. Shifozhuang mountain goods had some reputation among wealthy households. Hearing it was a merchant calling for business, they finally understood it was a false alarm. Servants and family members cursed as they withdrew their lanterns and torches, restraining the guard dogs in the courtyards. Soon the gates of several mansions along the street opened successively, and people in steward attire emerged from high steps and deep eaves.

“Oh, it really is you.” Having done business before, they all recognized each other. Seeing it was Old Zhou, these people all lowered their guard.

“Yes, yes, stewards. Business isn’t good this year, so hawking along the street accidentally disturbed your mansions. I’m truly sorry.” Old Zhou bowed and scraped apologetically.

“That’s fine. You came at just the right time. Let me ask you—do you have top-quality polygonatum? The quality must match what you brought last season. Our old mistress found that medicine quite effective and needs to restock.”

“Yes, yes. This season’s polygonatum is even better than last time. I guarantee the old mistress will be satisfied.” Seeing business actually came, Old Zhou immediately perked up.

“Our old master uses wild mountain rabbit fur for knee protectors every year—otherwise his rheumatic legs act up terribly. You brought rabbit fur, right?”

“Need you ask? The steward specifically instructed me last time—how could I dare forget?”

“Our young master’s walnut porridge…”

“The finest mountain walnuts, large and full-kerneled. If the young master doesn’t like them, I’ll refund ten times the money.”

In the blink of an eye, Old Zhou was surrounded by people. His hands and feet never stopped weighing and collecting money. After a full hour of busyness, when the sky had darkened completely, eight or nine-tenths of the cart’s mountain goods were gone. Old Zhou gripped a bag of scattered silver pieces, grinning so widely his mouth wouldn’t close.

Gu Pingyuan watched with a smile throughout, though silent, his heart was filled with many emotions. He reflected that at just over twenty, he had already experienced the vicissitudes of life—from a promising imperial examination candidate expected to become a high official, to being convicted and exiled to the bitter cold lands beyond the pass, then risking death to escape back inside the pass, accidentally entering business, boldly venturing into Black Water Swamp, traveling thousands of li to sell military provisions, fully combating Beijing merchants, and protecting Shanxi draft banks from loss. Step by step along this path, Gu Pingyuan had truly fallen in love with doing business.

If today there were an opportunity to regain scholarly honors and become a new juren again, still able to take the imperial examinations, Gu Pingyuan wondered whether he would again walk this path of “bringing glory to ancestors,” or would he resolutely place the word “fairness” in his heart, regard “integrity” as his guiding principle, and become a truly respectable businessman.

As he was thinking, Old Zhou respectfully asked nearby:

“Young Master Gu, this is truly miraculous. No one bought goods at the market street, yet this empty street produced so many customers with one shout. How did you know?”

Gu Pingyuan came back to his senses, realizing the crowd had dispersed.

“The principle is actually simple.” Common people lacked money after selling grain, but wealthy households weren’t strapped for cash because of this. Their daily meals and monthly supplies still needed to continue, but with bandits causing chaos and needing to gather forces to protect their homes, they had no time to send people to markets daily for purchases, and might even forget about shortages due to market disorder.

“Now with your shouting, you reminded them what they lacked and needed to replenish, plus door-to-door delivery—naturally customers flocked to you.”

The reasoning was indeed simple, but people like Old Zhou, accustomed to waiting passively, couldn’t help gaping and muttering: “How didn’t I think of this?”

As they spoke, another person emerged from a nearby mansion, pointing at them: “Our master says he wants that wild boar. We’ve been keeping night watch against bandits these days and caught a live one today. Master says he wants to reward everyone with a good meal.”

“Someone already bought half of that pig—only half remains now.” Old Zhou said somewhat apologetically.

The man was disappointed, thought for a moment and said: “That works too. Half a pig is better than nothing. We’ll take it.”

Half a pig still weighed over two hundred jin. Old Zhou’s injured waist couldn’t exert force, so Gu Pingyuan helped him. They tied the pig to a pole with rope and carried the half pig to the back courtyard kitchen, one in front and one behind.

The kitchen had a large pot cooking vegetables, steaming hot with fragrant aromas. Old Zhou hadn’t had water or rice all day and couldn’t help swallowing saliva. The steward was a decent person—seeing this, he proactively invited him to stay for a bowl of vegetable rice.

“How could I dare? I’m just a mountain person—how could I presume to eat in this mansion? I don’t have that fortune, don’t have that fortune.” Old Zhou rubbed his hands repeatedly.

The steward didn’t insist much and brought money to settle accounts. As the two settled up, Gu Pingyuan casually looked around and suddenly discovered that through a moon gate, inside the gate was a large tree requiring several people’s embrace, with what appeared to be a person hanging from it.

“Steward!” Gu Pingyuan was startled, thinking someone had hanged themselves, and quickly called out a warning.

The steward was puzzled, turned to look, and his expression immediately relaxed: “Oh, no problem. Just a little bandit. He’ll hang there tonight and be sent to the authorities for punishment tomorrow.”

Hang all night?! Gu Pingyuan couldn’t help thinking of the countless death cages beyond Shanhai Pass, and immediately felt angry, thinking these wealthy households took human life too lightly.

“The saying goes ‘catch thieves with stolen goods’—surely you caught him red-handed?” If so, Gu Pingyuan had no recourse.

“Not exactly.” The steward hesitated. “This boy was spying on our mansion. When questioned, he wouldn’t say why. If he’s not a bad person, is he a bodhisattva?”

Gu Pingyuan laughed bitterly: “Condemning someone as a criminal just for ‘spying on the mansion’ seems rather frivolous!”

Old Zhou had sold that half pig and cleared out his remaining goods. Extremely satisfied and grateful to Gu Pingyuan, he planned to do something unprecedented—find a small tavern to treat this young master to drinks. Being someone who most feared trouble and didn’t want complications, he secretly tugged at Gu Pingyuan’s sleeve, signaling him to leave quickly.

If he left like this, it wouldn’t be Gu Pingyuan. How could he want to meddle? But with a conscience in his heart, putting himself in others’ shoes, which person didn’t have elderly parents and young children? The current government was thoroughly corrupt, and prisons were even darker. Going in with a thief’s name, one would likely face nine deaths and one life, barely escaping alive. How would this person’s parents, wife, and children live then?

He knew in his heart that he too was someone who couldn’t be seen by authorities—this matter could only be discussed privately. He gently stepped forward, leaned toward the steward, and whispered: “Chief Steward, this is still a human life. Please consider it like releasing life at a Buddhist temple—do a good deed and let him go.”

How could it be so simple? The steward’s eyes widened, about to speak, when Gu Pingyuan’s next words arrived: “Think about it—if he’s not a bandit, your mansion would be wrongfully killing someone, wouldn’t that harm your karmic merit?”

“What if he is a bandit!”

“Then you should release him even more.”

“Why?”

“Now bandits dare enter cities to kidnap and burn—clearly the authorities can’t handle them. Your mansion can barely hide, much less avoid them. If you really offend these murderous fiends, do you think you’ll sleep peacefully in the future?”

The steward truly hadn’t thought this far. Reminded by Gu Pingyuan’s words, he shivered and heard Gu Pingyuan add: “With so many wealthy households on this street, is your mansion obligated to shield others from disaster?”

“Not obligated, not obligated.” Before the steward could answer, a stocky elderly man hurried over. The steward quickly bowed: “Master!” It was the household’s owner.

“Thanks to this gentleman’s reminder.” The elderly man had overheard a few sentences and found Gu Pingyuan’s words extremely insightful, definitely not an ordinary mountain goods peddler, so his attitude was quite polite. “I’ve decided to release this person, but it’s easy to catch but hard to release. I’m sure you can understand my difficulty.”

Releasing him would naturally admit to wrongful arrest. If the arrested person made a fuss about it, it would be hard to handle—this was the master’s concern.

“No problem. Have Old Zhou here act as guarantor, and I’ll take the person away, guaranteeing your household will be fine.” Gu Pingyuan thought he might as well see it through—having intervened, he’d go all the way. Though he was a passing outsider, Old Zhou was a regular visitor known to everyone, naturally qualified to act as guarantor.

Old Zhou was extremely unwilling, but since Gu Pingyuan had just done him a great favor, he absolutely couldn’t say “no.” Not being literate, when handed the ink pad, he pressed both thumbs into the mud seal, thus acting as guarantor.

After leaving the gate, Old Zhou had long forgotten about treating Gu Pingyuan to dinner, thanking him profusely while desperately wanting to leave this troublesome place.

Having seen so much of human nature over the years, Gu Pingyuan understood Old Zhou’s thoughts completely. Involving the word “bandit” naturally frightened this honest man. Always considerate of others, he smiled and said: “It’s getting late and you still have to travel overnight. Let’s part here. Please thank Brother Chen Er’s family for their care these past days.”

Watching Old Zhou drive his cart toward the north gate, Gu Pingyuan turned to examine the somewhat cowering figure behind him. This was a fourteen or fifteen-year-old youth, not tall, with a square face and thick eyebrows. His eyes avoided looking at people directly, probably somewhat dispirited from hanging for a while. He wore a black cloth shirt with several patches on the trouser legs, the stitching obviously done by male hands.

Gu Pingyuan thought that since he’d already saved the person, regardless of whether he was a thief, the best course was to leave quickly.

“Go on. Now everyone in the county is fearful—don’t do anything more to arouse suspicion, or I won’t be able to save you next time.”

“I… I have nowhere to go.” After waiting a while, the youth still didn’t leave. Gu Pingyuan was puzzled and about to ask when the youth hesitantly spoke.

“How can you have nowhere to go?”

“The city has curfew after dark. If the night patrol catches me and I can’t tell them where I live, I’ll be sent to jail again.”

“Oh…” Only then did Gu Pingyuan understand. “So where exactly do you live?”

“…” Only silence answered Gu Pingyuan, making him wonder if he’d really saved a bandit?!

Neither spoke for a moment, then the youth suddenly bowed to Gu Pingyuan and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Bandit or not, saving someone meant saving them completely. Gu Pingyuan sighed inwardly. “I’ve rented a room at an inn in the city. Come with me—at least spend the night, then leave the city in the morning.”

Hearing these words, the youth’s eyes moistened somewhat, but he only blinked, still not speaking.

“Thank you.” That night, as Gu Pingyuan lay in bed thinking, after the second watch sounded, he suddenly heard a clear voice from near the door. The youth sleeping on the floor was apparently also awake.

Gu Pingyuan simply got up and sat clothed: “Walking all that way earlier, I didn’t hear you say thanks. Why suddenly say this in the middle of the night?”

“I’m thanking you not because you saved me, and not because you let me sleep here. It’s because you saved me without questioning me.” The youth lay face up, hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling beam.

“What’s there to ask? A life is still a life.”

“What if I really am a bandit?”

“Isn’t a bandit’s life still a life?”

The youth suddenly sat up: “You’re really strange. Fine, I’ll tell you—I really am a bandit.”

Gu Pingyuan had actually guessed as much and was still startled, but quickly calmed down: “That’s nothing. I just hope you remember this escape from death and do fewer harmful things in the future.”

“I’ve never done anything harmful.” The youth was somewhat agitated and unconsciously stepped forward heavily.

“Quiet!” Gu Pingyuan sternly warned in a low voice. “Do you want to attract the constables?”

The youth also realized his voice was too loud, breathed heavily, and sat down by the table. Gu Pingyuan got up and walked a few steps, then turned back: “You’re still young—why be a bandit instead of doing something else?”

“You think I wanted to be a bandit!” This sentence excited the youth again, opening his floodgates of speech.

This youth’s surname was Cheng, given name Feng, living in Biandangou not far outside the city. He lost his mother young, and when he was eight, his father followed passing Taipings to become a “Holy Soldier.” At first he sent some money home, but later there was no news at all—in the dangers of war, his fate was probably grim. He also had a sister five years older who, to raise the Cheng family’s only male heir, sewed day and night. She finally saved five taels of silver planning to send her brother to school. But when this news got out, that very day the city’s wealthy Liu Danatou sent his steward to their door, producing an IOU claiming their father had borrowed ten taels of silver. Now that the Cheng family had money, naturally they should repay debts first.

The siblings were dumbstruck, both knowing that Liu Danatou was wealthy but heartless, and the IOU was likely forged. But with no evidence to the contrary, and the man having connections in the county yamen while they couldn’t afford a lawsuit, they had to accept their fate and planned to hand over the five taels of silver. Unexpectedly, the steward had a sudden inspiration—seeing that Cheng Feng’s sister had some beauty, he proposed using the remaining five taels as body price silver, taking her to the wealthy household as a servant for three years. Cheng Feng naturally refused, but being small and powerless, he could only watch helplessly as his sister was dragged away.

“What use is studying in this world? I figured I’d go up the mountain to become a hero, and one day when I encounter that Liu Danatou and his steward, I’d kill them both with one stroke each and rescue my sister. But, but…” Little Cheng Feng’s face suddenly showed pain as he spoke, holding his head unable to continue.

Gu Pingyuan thought briefly and understood—though this child had become a bandit in defiance, his nature was fundamentally good, so naturally he couldn’t bear to witness those acts of killing, arson, rape and pillage.

“You risked coming to the county this time just to rescue your sister, didn’t you?” Gu Pingyuan was confident in his assessment.

“…”

Gu Pingyuan pondered in his heart—this was just another Liu Heita, both forced onto this path. Having encountered him, he couldn’t ignore it. Thinking this, he reached into his robe and withdrew a twenty-tael banknote. “This is a banknote from a Shanxi draft bank, accepted throughout the realm. Take it to redeem your sister, and with the remaining silver, start some small business—you can barely get by.”

Cheng Feng suddenly raised his head, his face full of disbelief. Twenty taels of silver—that was a month’s expenses for a middle-class family in the county town.

“Take it.” Moonlight poured into the room, illuminating Gu Pingyuan’s sincere face.

“No, I can’t take it!”

“How will you rescue your sister if you don’t take it? You saw today—that’s not something you can do alone. If you insist on trying, you won’t save anyone and will only trap yourself.”

“I have a way.” Contrary to Gu Pingyuan’s expectations, Cheng Feng seemed quite confident.

“I’ll tell you straight—it’s already past the second watch. When the third watch sounds, that’s the signal.”

“What signal?” Gu Pingyuan’s heart stirred.

“Attack the county town!” Cheng Feng stared into Gu Pingyuan’s eyes.

Gu Pingyuan was greatly shocked: “Who’s attacking the county town?”

“Led by our stronghold, with brothers from nearby strongholds joining together. Many brothers have already been sent in to set fires everywhere when the time comes—coordinating inside and outside. I’m one of them.”

Gu Pingyuan carefully examined Cheng Feng’s expression, knowing he wasn’t joking, and suddenly stood up.

“How thoughtless you are! How many common people live in this county town? If bandits break in, can these people survive? You only think of your sister—what about other people’s parents and siblings? Haven’t you considered them?” As Gu Pingyuan spoke, he headed for the door.

Cheng Feng grabbed his sleeve: “Where are you going?”

“To report to the authorities, so government troops can prepare early.”

“No need.” Cheng Feng’s voice was muffled. “Don’t worry, the bandits won’t succeed.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say! But since you saved me, I definitely won’t harm you. Soon there will be great chaos outside—stay in the inn and don’t go out, to avoid being accidentally injured.” Having said this, Cheng Feng stood up to leave.

“You…”

“I’m going to rescue my sister in the chaos, then flee far away.” Cheng Feng bowed deeply to Gu Pingyuan, and after paying his respects, left without looking back.

Gu Pingyuan’s mind was in turmoil. This small county town was about to become a slaughterhouse—even someone as experienced as him couldn’t help feeling secretly alarmed. After being dazed for a while, he suddenly heard a loud “boom” from the direction of the city gates, immediately recognizing it as cannon fire.

Cheng Feng hadn’t lied—the bandits truly had the audacity to attack the county town, and they even had cannons! Looking at the scale, it was no small affair. If bandits really captured the county town, it would be nothing short of a bloodbath. Even if government forces held the city, they would certainly search everywhere for fire-setting spies. At that time, as an outsider unable to explain his origins, he would certainly be unable to clear himself of suspicion.

Never imagining that after recovering from his injuries he’d stumble into such a den of trouble, he had to leave quickly or disaster would surely follow. Having made this decision, Gu Pingyuan went downstairs to the inn’s courtyard. Outside, fires blazed everywhere, and the inn’s guests along with the proprietor and staff had all scrambled to the courtyard, staring at the fire-red sky in terror, not knowing what to do. Fortunately, the staff member who had taken Gu Pingyuan’s money worked diligently, preparing horses and dry provisions in an afternoon’s time. They were now tied at the stable in the back courtyard. Gu Pingyuan hurriedly settled his meal expenses with the innkeeper, and despite the proprietor’s dissuasion, endured the pain in his injured foot and mounted the horse with gritted teeth, loosening the reins and heading for the south gate.

Along the way, adults cried and children wailed. The streets were filled with common people running and calling out in distress. Their houses had been burned for no reason, the towering flames consuming a lifetime’s accumulations. Hearing that bandits were attacking the city from four sides, with constant cannon fire and battle cries, it was truly like being cast into hell, with no salvation possible except weeping and wailing.

Gu Pingyuan couldn’t care about all this now—he only hoped to first escape the county town to a safe place. Upon reaching the south gate, he looked around and secretly groaned—let alone a living person, even a mouse couldn’t squeeze out of this city.

The city gate was secured with a great iron portcullis, and the barbican was filled with a battalion of sword-wielding, scowling soldiers with weapons drawn. Looking at the city wall, cannons were positioned every ten meters, totaling no less than ten guns, currently roaring as they fired outward. The cannon fire Gu Pingyuan had heard earlier wasn’t from the bandits, but from the defending government troops.

Right next to the south gate stood a Wenchang Pavilion, the county’s tallest building, almost level with the city wall. Seeing he couldn’t get out, Gu Pingyuan immediately dismounted and climbed the stone steps three at a time to the pavilion’s top floor. From here he could easily see the battle situation inside and outside the city. Having read several military treatises and often ghostwritten for illiterate officers and commanders beyond the pass to handle Ministry of War examinations, Gu Pingyuan took one look and understood that the current battle situation wasn’t complex.

Inside the city, infiltrating bandits set fires everywhere. The government troops didn’t manage this—instead, the three classes of yamen runners mobilized collectively. Constables, mounted officers, and bailiffs all deployed, not bothering with firefighting but arresting every arsonist they encountered. This was a strategy of removing fuel from under the cauldron, very effective. Soon the number of new fires stopped increasing as internal disorder was quelled, and only then could firefighting begin slowly.

The situation outside the city was even more peculiar. The bandits outside all wore black headbands, numbering several hundred, shouting “ho ho” chaotically with impressive momentum. Though they appeared fierce, they couldn’t break open the city gates. If they could open the gates and enter for close combat, the battle’s outcome would be unpredictable. But with the gates closed and government forces responding properly, the artillery aimed distantly, forcing this group of bandits within range of arrows and firearms, then releasing volleys of arrows and gunfire—dozens of black-headbanded bandits perished outside the city walls. After several repetitions, the bandits panicked, preferring to brave the cannons rather than approach the walls again. Just then, Green Standard cavalry that had been waiting in the moats outside the city walls leaped out, charging back and forth, immediately dispatching many more bandits.

“Excellent strategy!” Gu Pingyuan frowned as he watched, unconsciously praising. Laymen see the excitement, experts see the technique—being half an expert himself, he noticed some peculiarities.

The government troops were clearly prepared in advance!

This group of bandits was obviously coming to their deaths. So much for coordinating inside and outside—they were actually being lured out of their holes and trapped like dogs. It appeared government forces would soon achieve victory.

Gu Pingyuan knew that after government victory, there would certainly be a city-wide search, not sparing a single bandit spy. Though he was innocent, he couldn’t prove it, leaving his situation precarious.

“Even if I can’t leave the city, I should at least find somewhere to hide temporarily.” As this thought occurred to Gu Pingyuan, he suddenly seemed to spot a familiar figure in the distance.

“Qiao Henian?” Gu Pingyuan was confident in his eyesight. Though over a hundred meters away, he could recognize a black-headbanded bandit frantically dodging arrows as the poor scholar Qiao Henian he’d met in Shanxi.

This was impossible—Qiao Henian was currently a minor official in the capital. How could he appear thousands of li away mingling among bandits? Gu Pingyuan thought his eyes were playing tricks and didn’t dwell on it. Taking three steps as two, he descended Wenchang Pavilion, just thinking of leading his horse to try the east or west gates when he heard a tremendous “clang” that shook the clouds. This sound was much louder than cannon fire. Gu Pingyuan felt the ground shake three times beneath his feet, and even the tall Wenchang Pavilion beside him swayed. If he hadn’t quickly grabbed the horse’s reins, he would have fallen.

A cannon on the city wall had apparently fired over ten rounds in quick succession, causing the barrel to overheat. When soldiers had just loaded another cannonball, it exploded, killing several gunners and detonating an entire case of explosive shells, blowing a corner off the city wall.

The bandits outside were like ants on a hot pan, with nowhere to run or hide. Suddenly seeing heaven’s help—government cannons had blown up their own city wall—they swarmed toward this breach like finding a lifeline. The commanding officer inside was greatly alarmed—if bandits killed their way in, the cavalry would lose their advantage, essentially abandoning strengths for weaknesses. Should it become a melee, with bandits rushing to the other three gates for coordinated attacks, the battle situation could reverse instantly. He immediately ordered soldiers to defend the breach to the death. In the blink of an eye, fighting inside and outside the gap became a bloody mess of corpses.

The cavalry outside could only watch helplessly, not daring to provide support. Cavalry tactics emphasized mobility—with bandits gathered under the city wall, it was like having a mountain at their backs. Charging cavalry would have to stop, essentially waiting to be slaughtered.

Gu Pingyuan stood just yards away, watching both sides fight desperately. With the situation critical, he couldn’t worry about much else. If he gambled and tried to exit through this breach, he’d face enormous risk—both sides had bloodshot eyes, fighting for every inch, the gap stained red with blood, blades flashing with no way through. Seeing the commanding officer supervising from behind, Gu Pingyuan approached and cupped his hands: “Commander, please open the city gates.”

“Hmm?” The commander’s blade was already unsheathed. His eyes glared as he pointed the blade tip at Gu Pingyuan’s heart: “What did you say? You’re a spy!”

“Sir, please observe—government forces greatly outnumber the bandits, but this narrow breach prevents proper formation deployment. Fighting this way actually favors the bandits. Even if victorious, many soldiers will die needlessly. Better to open the gates, deploy a unit to attack from outside inward, trapping the bandits between two forces—victory would come quickly.”

As Gu Pingyuan spoke, he made a pincer gesture with both fists. The commander, being versed in military tactics, immediately saw the logic and looked deeply at Gu Pingyuan. With no time for detailed questioning, he followed this advice. Giving orders amid the chaotic battle wasn’t easy—disregarding normal formations, he hastily assembled troops and personally led them out to engage the enemy.

As soon as the gates opened, a whip cracked and a horse galloped out—Gu Pingyuan on its back. The commander was stunned, but had no time to pursue this person. Speed was crucial—they had to strike while bandits were unprepared for maximum effect. The commander simply gestured to gunners on the wall, pointed at Gu Pingyuan’s horse, and shouted: “Fire!”

Gu Pingyuan had killed two birds with one stone—giving military advice while getting the gates opened. His horse ran as if chased by tigers, hooves flying as he covered over an arrow’s distance with one whip crack, his heart finally settling as he loosened the reins slightly.

He celebrated too early—men and horses naturally couldn’t catch him, but they had cannons. Though he hadn’t heard the commander’s “Fire!” order, the whistling of explosive shells from behind was crystal clear. Gu Pingyuan thought “not good” and spurred his horse hard. Just as he was about to look back, the shell had arrived, striking an earthen mound not far ahead. Dust flew and thunder roared as Gu Pingyuan tumbled from his horse and lost consciousness in the darkness.

When he awoke, feeling coolness on his face, someone was calling his name: “Brother Gu, Gu Pingyuan!”

“Mm!” Gu Pingyuan slowly opened his eyes. Seeing the person before him clearly, he was both surprised and delighted: “Brother Qiao?!”

It was indeed Qiao Henian. Gu Pingyuan hadn’t been mistaken earlier—the black-headbanded bandit outside the city was Qiao Henian. Now he had removed the black headband and held a water gourd, sprinkling water on Gu Pingyuan’s face.

Gu Pingyuan wasn’t seriously injured when he fell from his horse—the horse had shielded him from disaster, its belly blown open with intestines spilling out, clearly beyond saving. As Gu Pingyuan tried to stand, Qiao Henian pressed him down: “Stay crouched and don’t move—if those on the wall spot us, we’re finished.”

Though Gu Pingyuan was full of questions about why Qiao Henian was here, he knew roadside grass wasn’t the place for conversation. He whispered: “Brother Qiao, are you familiar with the local geography? Is there somewhere nearby to hide?”

“Yes.” Qiao Henian had already scouted ahead—following the main road, there was a side path leading to a village built around a temple. The villagers presumably worshipped Buddha and were kind-hearted, suitable for temporary refuge.

The location was accurate and such a village did exist, but Qiao Henian’s plan to shelter there temporarily was miscalculated. These villagers had long despised bandits. Hearing that bandits attacking the county had suffered great losses, and seeing two bedraggled men enter the village seeking lodging, the headman and village chief consulted briefly, then without explanation bound Gu and Qiao and marched them toward the county town.

No matter how eloquent Gu Pingyuan was, it was useless—these country folk wouldn’t let him speak. As soon as he opened his mouth, they gagged him with a towel. Qiao Henian received the same treatment. The two exchanged helpless glances, knowing they could only accept their fate.

They originally thought they’d be delivered to the county yamen, but unexpectedly encountered a Banner Army cavalry unit on the road. The villagers handed over the “bandit spies,” and the two were bound together by rope and led stumbling behind horses to a desolate village hidden in the mountains, over ten li from the county town. By now the sun was setting westward. Upon entering the village, they heard pleas for mercy everywhere—a large group of captured bandits were imprisoned in the village square. In the center of this square was a dry well with a wooden frame above it holding a broken bell, presumably used for gathering villagers before the village was abandoned.

As Gu Pingyuan walked forward, he heard a sergeant on the square cracking his whip at rows of kneeling bandits: “Listen well, you thieves—a life for a life, a debt for a debt has always been the principle. You surely know what this place is—Nanling Village! Four years ago this was still a lively place, until some bandits massacred it, leaving less than ten percent of the villagers alive, turning it into this godforsaken wasteland. Today I’ll slaughter you all here—not unjust, is it!”

How could these kneeling bandits consider it just? They continued kowtowing and begging for mercy. One voice was different, however—not pleading for life but roaring in fury: “My sister was just a woman—what crime did she commit? Why kill her!”

The speaker was Cheng Feng. He had failed to escape with his sister and was trapped among the bandits. Only now did Gu Pingyuan learn that his sister had died in the chaotic battle, and his heart couldn’t help but darken. The sergeant sneered: “You’re a bandit, so your sister is naturally a bandit’s family member. Her death isn’t unjust.”

“Bah! You clearly wanted to rob the silver hairpin from my sister’s head. When she refused, you killed her!” Cheng Feng’s eyes were nearly splitting, staring with blood-red pupils. Though his hands were bound, he struggled to stand and ram the sergeant with his head.

This was asking for trouble—even with free movement, he couldn’t touch a hair on the sergeant. A nearby soldier, like a cat toying with a mouse, smiled as Cheng Feng lunged forward and kicked him down. Cheng Feng lunged again, the soldier kicked again. After over ten repetitions, the soldier grew impatient and viciously kicked Cheng Feng’s face with his cowhide military boot. A dull sound of breaking bone followed as Cheng Feng fell to the ground. When he raised his face again, it was a bloody mess, his nose crooked and his lip torn open. Even so, he continued cursing, his voice like a wolf’s howl.

“I should never have delivered that letter—better to let all you bastards get killed by the stronghold!”

“Delivered a letter?” Beside the sergeant stood an official wearing a silver pheasant rank badge and plain gold cap ornament—clearly the magistrate of Pingtian County. He understood that government forces had won such a clean victory in one day entirely because three days ago someone had delivered a letter to the county yamen by night, detailing the bandits’ surprise attack time, routes, and numbers. Only then could the county prepare in advance, gathering over twenty cannons from various township militias overnight and requesting Green Standard and Banner cavalry for defense, fighting a battle with guaranteed victory.

“What evidence do you have for this claim? Let me ask you—since you know about the letter, what did it say?” The magistrate was genuinely curious.

“I don’t know—I didn’t write the letter.”

“Pure nonsense, completely fabricated, trying to claim false credit to escape death!” The sergeant who had been coldly observing suddenly shouted, glaring at the Pingtian magistrate. He thought this scholar didn’t understand affairs—this was a great achievement that when reported would bring promotions and honors to all. If proven that a bandit had assisted, this credit would be significantly diminished.

“It’s not nonsense. I didn’t write the letter—he did!” Cheng Feng, heartbroken over his sister’s death, had thrown caution to the wind, wanting only to make the truth clear.

Everyone followed Cheng Feng’s fierce gaze and discovered he was looking at Qiao Henian.

Suddenly, everyone including Gu Pingyuan stared intently at Qiao Henian’s face. In the midst of this silence, someone suddenly roared and cursed: “Damn it, you bastard military advisor! So you traded your stronghold brothers’ lives for merit with the government! Even if I die, I won’t forgive you!”

The curser was Qiu Xiong, chief of Hanging Death Ridge. Government forces had severed one of his arms and he was seriously wounded, half-lying and half-kneeling on the ground, his eyes spitting fire at Qiao Henian.

“Let me ask you—are you the military advisor of this bandit stronghold?” The Pingtian magistrate approached Qiao Henian.

“Hmph, ridiculous.” Qiao Henian looked disdainful.

“Audacious bandit! How dare you not kneel before this magistrate!”

“Magistrate Du, you entered school at eight, became a juren at thirteen, and were a jinshi graduate in the seventh year of Xianfeng—truly well-read. Don’t you know the principle that officials of equal rank need not bow or kneel to each other?”

“Ah, ah…” Magistrate Du was indeed surnamed Du. Hearing this, he couldn’t help being shocked, stepping back half a pace to examine Qiao Henian up and down. “Who exactly are you? How do you know this magistrate’s background? And what do you mean by equal rank?”

Qiao Henian calmly replied: “This official is Qiao Henian, formerly serving in the Ministry of Revenue, recently appointed as an expectant county magistrate in Anhui, passing through here en route to Luzhou to report to the prefect. Unexpectedly I encountered government forces suppressing bandits and was captured by ignorant villagers. This is truly a great joke, most improper, causing Magistrate Du to laugh at me. As for your background, since learning I would take office in Anhui, I’ve memorized the backgrounds of all Anhui officials large and small from the Complete Directory of Officials, naturally including Magistrate Du.”

“You’re an expectant magistrate? Where are your official robes? Where’s your official seal?” Hearing this, Magistrate Du didn’t dare act rashly. The saying goes “capital officials outrank by three levels”—this man’s background was significant. If what he said was true and they had bound a court official without cause, the consequences would be unbearable.

“I had them originally, but encountering this chaos and being bound by villagers, I lost them.”

“Then there’s no proof.” Magistrate Du frowned.

“Please have someone loosen my leg bindings.”

It turned out there was something in the leg bindings—a fresh “Ministry Certificate” stamped with the Ministry of Personnel’s purple clay seal, with a handprint on the back. Magistrate Du had such a document himself—it was an official’s credentials, normally kept on file at the provincial administration office. When he first traveled from Beijing to Anhui, he had fondled it repeatedly—ten years of hard study exchanged for this one piece of paper that he could never see enough of. Now seeing it, he immediately recognized it as genuine. Comparing Qiao Henian’s fingerprint with the handprint on the certificate showed perfect match, proving Qiao Henian wasn’t lying—he was indeed an expectant magistrate appointed by the Ministry of Personnel.

“Oh my, how can this be! Fortunately no harm came to Official Qiao amid the chaos—surely a blessing in disguise!” Magistrate Du repeatedly apologized while scolding his subordinates: “Quick, untie Official Qiao! You’re truly blind—can’t tell officials from bandits! Stupid, deserving death!”

This sudden turn of events left everyone dumbfounded. From the crowd, Qiu Xiong screamed: “So you’re an official! Damn it, I was truly blind. If I’d known, I’d have chopped you to pieces and dressed you in a red robe!”

Cheng Feng, having lost most of his teeth to the soldier’s kick, struggled to breathe and said: “I don’t care if you’re an official or military advisor—I did what you told me to do. Now that your business is done, I couldn’t save my sister, but I don’t blame you for that. I only ask you to testify and have them release me so I can bury my sister. I can’t let her corpse lie exposed in the wilderness. I’m willing to return and accept death after burying her.”

“Official Qiao…” Though Magistrate Du wasn’t a good official, he wasn’t incompetent either. Seeing all the bandits speak with one voice, saying Qiao Henian was the stronghold’s military advisor, he began to have doubts.

Qiao Henian glanced at Qiu Xiong, then at Cheng Feng, surveyed the circle of bandits who wanted to tear off his flesh, then turned to Magistrate Du: “Magistrate Du, you’ve verified the certificate, haven’t you? Is it real or fake?”

“Not fake—definitely issued by the Ministry of Personnel.”

“Then what more is there to say? To tell the truth, I was never any bandit stronghold’s military advisor, nor did I perform any merit of delivering warning letters. These scoundrels see death approaching and plan to implicate an official, either hoping to live a few more days or wanting to drag someone down with them.”

“Bastard…” Hearing this, Cheng Feng’s eyes nearly split from his sockets, his chest about to burst with rage.

Qiao Henian acted as if he hadn’t heard, continuing: “If Your Honor truly takes these baseless words as evidence, that’s fine too. Why not gather all the prisoners, including me, and let’s go to the capital to clarify everything with the Ministry of Justice. What do you think?”

This one sentence left Magistrate Du speechless. He had already agreed with the Green Standard and Banner officers that they would leave no prisoners alive, executing them immediately and reporting them as battlefield kills. After receiving rewards, they would divide the gold and silver treasures from these four or five strongholds—it looked like each person could easily pocket tens of thousands of taels.

Now Qiao Henian proposed bringing large numbers of prisoners to the capital—an thankless task. If disputes reached the prefect level and this actually happened, he’d be in serious trouble. Not only would the prisoners not die, preventing private division of stolen goods, but just escorting so many people in prison carts and cages to the capital would be exhausting. Any mishap would mean dereliction of duty and certain punishment. Even if they reached the capital safely, bribing officials at the Ministry of Justice and other yamens would be necessary—otherwise, with deliberate bureaucratic obstacles, his remaining term might be spent entirely in Beijing. By then, forget earning tens of thousands—not losing everything would be cause for gratitude.

Thinking of this, Magistrate Du felt like sitting on pins and needles, immediately knowing how to handle the situation.

“Official Qiao jests—clearly these are bandits making wild accusations. How can such nonsense be believed? Official Qiao, this isn’t a place for conversation. I’ll send someone to escort you back to town and host a banquet tonight to calm your nerves.”

“No need.” Seeing the crisis had passed, Qiao Henian secretly sighed with relief. “Your Honor has just concluded a great campaign—I imagine the aftermath involves countless matters. I won’t add to Your Honor’s troubles. Since we’ll both be serving in the same province, there will be many opportunities to meet at the prefect’s office. I’ll express my gratitude properly then.”

“Good, good. In that case, I’ll provide a sedan chair to escort you out of the county.”

Magistrate Du couldn’t wait for this ambiguous Qiao Henian to leave quickly.

“Wait.” Qiao Henian pointed to Gu Pingyuan, still bound nearby. “He’s my servant, also mistakenly captured. Please release him as well, Your Honor.”

Magistrate Du was about to agree readily when a blood-covered officer approached, pointing at Gu Pingyuan and shouting: “Wrong! This man earlier tricked open the city gates and escaped. If he were innocent, why flee the city so urgently? He must be a spy—can’t be released!”

Gu Pingyuan was startled, recognizing the officer as the commander who had defended the city.

“I sent him into the city to buy supplies for the road. Encountering the bandit attack, he probably feared I’d worry and so escaped.” Qiao Henian’s weak explanation even he found unconvincing.

Magistrate Du preferred to avoid complications—even if this were a bandit, releasing one more wouldn’t matter much, essentially doing a favor for a fellow official. But the Green Standard forces weren’t under county jurisdiction, and their military service was essential, so he couldn’t act unilaterally. He looked toward the sergeant.

The sergeant pondered briefly. Before he could speak, a black shadow suddenly charged forward with the force of a mad tiger, but not toward the sergeant or Magistrate Du—straight at Qiao Henian. No one was prepared. Though soldiers guarded the prisoners, they hadn’t expected an attack on Qiao Henian. In that moment of hesitation, the person had already knocked Qiao Henian to the ground, then bit his face, growling viciously in his throat.

The incident happened so suddenly that only when people reacted did they realize Cheng Feng had lunged forward. They quickly rushed to rescue Qiao Henian. Fortunately, Cheng Feng’s teeth had been almost completely smashed earlier, so his bite was mostly for show. A soldier struck his face hard with a sword pommel. Accompanied by the sound of breaking bone, that face immediately caved in. Cheng Feng painfully released his grip and was dragged up by his queue.

Qiao Henian’s cheek bore clear tooth marks, but the wound wasn’t deep. He climbed to his feet, looking at Cheng Feng with some fear, hearing only Chief Qiu Xiong loudly cheering from the crowd.

By this time the sergeant had made up his mind. He drew a gleaming short blade, cut the ropes binding Gu Pingyuan, then without explanation thrust the knife into his hands.

“Since ancient times, officials and bandits don’t coexist. I’ll give you a chance to prove your identity.” He pointed at Cheng Feng, whose eyes were bulging out. “Kill him and you’re an official. Don’t kill him and you’re a bandit. Think it over yourself.” Having said this, he cracked his knuckles with snapping sounds and stepped aside.

During Qiao Henian and Magistrate Du’s earlier conversation, Gu Pingyuan had listened clearly from the side. Reading expressions and observing behavior, though he couldn’t discern anything from Qiao Henian’s face, he could tell from Qiu Xiong and Cheng Feng’s faces that they were telling the truth!

For some unknown reason, Qiao Henian had become a bandit, then secretly passed information and set up a trap to betray these people, while Cheng Feng was the person Qiao Henian had sent to the county town to deliver the warning letter. Gu Pingyuan’s thoughts raced as he nearly saw through the entire affair, only not understanding the “why.” But he also knew that the so-called “why” would have to wait until after leaving this place to question Qiao Henian in detail. Now neither the time nor place was right—saving his life came first.

Save his life? That required killing someone first, and killing Cheng Feng whom he had just rescued yesterday. How could Gu Pingyuan bring himself to do this? He looked around somewhat bewildered.

Kill one person and he could prove his innocence, rescue himself from beneath the blades and axes, then leave this hellish scene—what a logical thing to do. The bandits kneeling below would have gladly traded places with Gu Pingyuan, and even though this was their companion, they would certainly kill him without hesitation.

“Ahem!” Just as Gu Pingyuan was at a loss, the sergeant impatiently cleared his throat, reminding him not to hesitate. He had his own calculations—Cheng Feng was the only one who admitted to delivering the letter. If superiors inquired about this later, it would always be troublesome, diminishing this great achievement by three parts. Now using Gu Pingyuan’s hand to eliminate this person would settle everything once and for all. Better yet, this Qiao fellow was a named official—when the time came, they could push everything onto him, and even if there were reprimands, none would fall on himself.

Cheng Feng could barely stand, swaying weakly as he muttered to himself: “I was blind and mistook the person. I have nothing to say.” He raised his eyes to look at Gu Pingyuan. “Take my life for yours—consider it repaying the favor of you saving me last night. You don’t need to wait. I can’t escape this blade anyway—it’s the same whoever kills me.”

“If that’s the case, don’t blame me!” Gu Pingyuan gritted his teeth, pulled Cheng Feng from the soldiers’ hands, and pushed him forward heavily. Cheng Feng staggered several steps and hadn’t yet steadied himself when Gu Pingyuan came from behind and thrust the blade deep into his lower back. Cheng Feng screamed miserably, his body falling downward as Gu Pingyuan seized the momentum to throw him. The corpse tumbled with a thud into the dry well beneath the broken bell.

Gu Pingyuan leaned forward, appearing to look into the well, but no one saw him also toss the wound medicine the county doctor had prescribed into the well. Then he walked back and handed the knife to the sergeant.

The sergeant took the short blade, examined the blood stains on it, and nodded with satisfaction: “That was a clean stroke. You don’t look like this was your first time killing.”

Gu Pingyuan was silent for a moment before speaking: “In these times, it’s either kill or be killed. What do you think, sir?”

“Hehe, reasonable. Kill a bandit and you’re not a bandit yourself. Go on.” The sergeant waved his hand.

Qiao Henian was eager to leave Pingtian County, so he declined Magistrate Du’s sedan chair and instead requested two good horses. He and Gu Pingyuan each rode one, and just as they spurred their horses to depart, Qiu Xiong’s high-pitched roar came from behind: “Qiao! Don’t forget—you set up a stake last night too! What kind of official are you supposed to be! Hey, our brothers won’t live past today, but you bastard won’t die well either, sooner or later!”

Gu Pingyuan glanced sideways at Qiao Henian riding alongside him and saw his face was ashen, unconsciously shivering.

Both men shared the same thought—the sooner they left this accursed Pingtian County, the better. So despite their exhaustion, they traveled through the night. Fortunately, all the bandits along the route had been eliminated in the Pingtian battle, and even small bands of robbers were scared witless—who would dare charge into gunfire at this time? So the night journey was peaceful, and by sunrise the two horses had reached the walls of Anqing.

Anqing had been Anhui’s provincial capital, but had fallen to Taiping hands several years ago and was only recaptured from them last year. After several battles, the city walls had been damaged beyond repair by artillery fire. The provincial governor, surveillance commissioners, and other government offices had all been burned to ashes. Governor Yuan Jiasan couldn’t conduct business here, so the provincial capital remained at Luzhou. Now Chen Yucheng was stationed with large Taiping forces at nearby Sanhe Town, and fearing Anqing might fall again, the government had conscripted large numbers of civilian laborers to repair the city defenses day and night.

Seeing this chaos in the city, Gu Pingyuan felt no need to enter. Since he and Qiao Henian were parting ways here—one returning to Huizhou, the other heading to Luzhou—they might as well lodge at an inn outside the city, rest well, eat and drink their fill, then bypass the city.

Qiao Henian agreed with this idea, so they chose a clean, tidy small inn. First they hastily ordered some food to fill their stomachs, then took two rooms for daytime rest and fell into deep sleep.

Both men had barely slept for two nights, so this sleep was truly sweet. After sleeping who knows how many hours, Gu Pingyuan heard someone screaming loudly in his dreams, the voice shrill as if encountering ghosts. His heart jumped as he opened his eyes and listened carefully, realizing the sound came from Qiao Henian’s room next door. He quickly pushed open his door and knocked on the neighboring one.

“Brother Qiao, Brother Qiao!”

“Who is it?” The voice inside still held fear.

“It’s me.” Gu Pingyuan gently pushed open the door to see Qiao Henian sitting on the bed’s edge, head lowered looking at the floor, covered in cold sweat from head to face, his hands and feet trembling unconsciously.

“Brother Qiao, I seemed to hear just now…”

“Yes, I had a nightmare, dreaming of my brother and sister-in-law who died tragically. I must have disturbed you.” Qiao Henian’s eyes were downcast, his voice sounding very tired, not at all like someone who had just had a good sleep.

“Oh…” Gu Pingyuan knew he was lying but was speechless.

“Please return to your room first, Brother Gu. I’ll come find you shortly.”

Gu Pingyuan returned to his room, but couldn’t sleep anymore. He simply brewed tea and waited for Qiao Henian, but waited left and right without him coming. After nearly half an hour with still no movement, Gu Pingyuan couldn’t sit still and went back to the neighboring room. This time when he knocked, no one answered inside. The inn servant saw this and came over to chat: “Guest, your companion went out alone earlier.”

“Oh, did he say where he was going?”

“He didn’t say, but he asked me where the market was. I figure he headed there.”

Gu Pingyuan went out and turned left, and after two turns saw a market street. He walked two circuits, peering into general stores, silk shops, restaurants, and medicine shops, but didn’t see Qiao Henian anywhere. Finally he found him in an unexpected place.

“Brother Qiao, what are you doing here?”

This was the back alley of a shop selling incense, candles, and paper money. Because the business dealt with the netherworld, people rarely came to this alley, making it quiet and secluded. Qiao Henian had bought a pile of paper money, candles, and paper figures and horses, and was crouched on the ground burning them. The roaring flames made it difficult to approach, but Qiao Henian seemed oblivious until Gu Pingyuan called him. Only then did he turn his head with an unnatural grin.

“I just had that dream, and my brother and sister-in-law appeared to me in it…”

“You…” Gu Pingyuan felt anger rising in his heart. He greatly valued Qiao Henian as a person, considering him a true scholar who had dared risk losing his scholarly status to righteously defend him back in Taigu. Later, his brother and sister-in-law’s deaths were also indirectly connected to Gu Pingyuan, so he still harbored some guilt. The more this was so, the less he could bear to see Qiao Henian lie to his face—this was what’s called “the deeper the love, the sharper the reproach.”

Gu Pingyuan suppressed his anger and softened his tone as much as possible: “Brother Qiao, what kind of relationship do we have? We once ventured through Black Water Swamp together—a life-and-death friendship! Now after this long separation and reunion, you’ve remained silent all along this journey, and now you speak of your brother and sister-in-law appearing in dreams, treating me like a three-year-old child. Or perhaps I should call you ‘Magistrate Qiao’—from now on, you’re an official and I’m a commoner. Everyone goes their own way, and our friendship ends here.”

Though Gu Pingyuan spoke thus, he didn’t turn and leave. Qiao Henian’s body shook, and he slowly raised his eyes to look at him. Only then did Gu Pingyuan notice tear tracks on Qiao Henian’s face, and looking more closely, saw his entire face bore expressions of pain.

Gu Pingyuan wasn’t stone-hearted either. Seeing Qiao Henian’s inner torment, his heart immediately softened, but for his sake, he had to press harder. Heart barriers hidden too long could drive a person mad.

He stepped forward and forcefully pulled Qiao Henian to his feet: “Don’t be such a weakling. Even if you poke a hole in the sky, what’s so terrible about that? Just find a way to patch it up.”

Qiao Henian shook his head, started to speak several times but stopped, and finally let out a long sigh: “Sigh…”

Over a month ago, Qiao Henian had privately petitioned Empress Dowager Cixi on Gu Pingyuan’s behalf, pointing out the shocking flaws in the Shanxi draft bank treason case, essentially single-handedly overturning this enormous case. When this happened, the Six Boards were shocked. This didn’t occur in the deep palace during a private audience between ruler and minister, but in the Hall of Supreme Harmony before the entire court, in full view of civil and military officials. Within three days this matter had spread throughout the capital, causing Prince Gong, Baojun and others to lose all face.

Prince Gong was inwardly furious, but maintaining the dignity of a regent prince, he showed nothing on his surface, still displaying gracious composure. Baojun was even more shrewd to the bone, knowing he couldn’t touch Qiao Henian at this time. So he maintained a smiling facade as if nothing had happened, and specifically sought out Qiao Henian at the Ministry of Revenue, where he sat buried in documents. People had originally gathered around Qiao Henian asking about the rare event, but suddenly seeing the department minister arrive, knowing Baojun was full of anger, they all scattered to avoid being implicated.

“Don’t leave, don’t leave. Please all come back.” Baojun was famous as a Laughing Buddha, showing three parts smile even when angry, and now his face was wreathed in smiles. After everyone gathered again, Baojun straightened his official robes and respectfully bowed to Qiao Henian.

“Brother Qiao, though young, you dare to take responsibility and single-handedly corrected the court’s error. I truly admire this—respectable, respectable.”

Qiao Henian was also stunned. When he submitted his memorial, he had prepared for reprimands or even dismissal, never expecting Baojun to do the opposite. For a moment he stood frozen.

Baojun smiled and continued: “This case was reported by me. Without Brother Qiao’s unexpected assistance, we nearly made a grave error. Fortunately we corrected it in time—truly I benefited from your help. Without question, I’m hosting a banquet tonight. Everyone come to my residence—I must properly toast Brother Qiao three cups.”

Qiao Henian never imagined that a high-ranking official with red cap button, and his own department’s chief minister, could so magnanimously admit error to him. He was immediately so moved his voice trembled and tears nearly flowed, repeatedly expressing humble gratitude.

While he was overwhelmed with emotion, those who knew Baojun’s nature were sweating cold bullets for him. That evening at the banquet, Baojun watched the opera performers and casually asked: “Brother Qiao, I’ve never paid attention—what position do you currently hold in the ministry?”

“Reporting to Your Excellency, your humble servant works as a secretary in the Currency Office, managing documents and archives.”

“Such waste of talent, truly waste of talent.” Baojun lightly slapped the table, repeatedly saying: “With your abilities, how can you remain in a ninth-rank position? Rest assured, I will certainly recommend you for promotion. With this achievement alone, I can definitely get you a new cap button.”

Some present thought Baojun was speaking sarcastically, others thought it was drunken talk. Even Qiao Henian didn’t take it seriously. After all, having offended his superior, no matter how magnanimous the forgiveness, it wouldn’t result in promotion—if so, everyone would oppose their superiors.

What no one expected was that Baojun meant what he said. The next day he reported Qiao Henian to the Personnel Ministry’s Merit Office for diligence in government affairs, simultaneously requesting rewards for this achievement. This was merit acknowledged by the Empress Dowager herself, and with the department chief’s endorsement, the Personnel Ministry naturally had no reason not to approve. The result was one merit citation plus one achievement, advancing three ranks to become a seventh-rank Revenue Ministry Principal, though since this wasn’t the year-end merit promotion, there was no vacant position available. Qiao Henian only received the rank advancement and changed his cap ornament and official robes, still working as a secretary while waiting for a position to open.

This was truly unexpected joy. Beijing officials normally needed two years for each promotion level. This counted as Qiao Henian reaching heaven in one step, envied by many of his peers. Baojun truly seemed to bear no grudges, sending Qiao Henian fifty taels in banknotes as congratulations that very day. For a time people talked of nothing else, all praising Baojun’s magnanimity. The damage to his and Prince Gong’s reputations from the recent storm was thus invisibly dissolved.

After several more days, the matter of Qiao Henian’s promotion gradually cooled down. Suddenly the Personnel Ministry sent a document to all Beijing offices, roughly stating that Anhui was currently in urgent military crisis, with many areas finally recovered after repeated struggles. But to achieve local stability, the people needed to live and work in peace, able to eat and dress warmly. Therefore they planned to select economics-savvy officials from Beijing to serve as local magistrates in Anhui, asking each office to nominate outstanding officials to the Personnel Ministry.

Who would dare take this deadly assignment! Anhui was currently ablaze with war, with no safe place in the entire province. Just last month three county magistrates and one prefect had died, plus one magistrate who fled the county seat with his family when Taipings attacked, only to be bound and executed for “failing to defend his territory and abandoning his post.”

No one was foolish enough to abandon a good Beijing post to die in Anhui—certainly no official was that stupid. But other ministries weren’t worried, only watching the Revenue Ministry’s comedy with amusement. Because the Personnel Ministry document clearly stated that economics-savvy officials were needed for competence, and the Revenue Ministry controlled national finances and expenditures, historically called the “Grand Minister of Agriculture”—if not from the Revenue Ministry, where else would such candidates come from?

Baojun put on an appearance of loyal public service, saying before all the department officials that “thunder, rain and dew are all imperial grace; Beijing and Anhui are both imperial soil. Having enjoyed official salaries, surely you gentlemen won’t shirk responsibility.” Naturally everyone agreed, but who would actually go? When asked, everyone had official reasons they couldn’t leave, because the Revenue Ministry handled national accounts, with provincial treasuries maintaining roomfuls of account books with each Revenue Ministry department, requiring considerable time for handovers, while the Personnel Ministry was pressing urgently. Finally the questioning reached Qiao Henian, whose seventh rank was just right for local administrative duties, and who happened to have no current assignment. Baojun smiled at him as Qiao Henian stammered, thought and thought but found no excuse to decline, and could only steel himself to volunteer. Baojun clapped his hands in praise: “I knew I hadn’t misjudged you! Brother Qiao is truly a talent loyal to the nation, worthy of being a capable member of our Revenue Ministry. Without question, I’ll report this to the Personnel Ministry today. This matter is settled.”

By this point, those who had earlier envied Qiao Henian looked at him as if at a dead man. The Personnel Ministry certificate was issued the next day as Qiao Henian’s credential for serving as an official in Anhui, but one thing was delayed—the War Ministry travel pass. All post stations along the route were managed by the War Ministry; without the pass, even officials couldn’t stay at post stations or use post horses, as there was no way to determine if travel was official or private.

Qiao Henian went to the War Ministry twice daily requesting the travel pass, but it was repeatedly delayed. Later a War Ministry clerk, also from Shanxi, took pity on this bewildered fellow countryman and privately told him: “If you keep waiting like this and miss the deadline on your certificate, do you still want to fill the position? I’ll tell you straight—stop waiting for any travel pass. Minister Bao has given word that your pass might not come through even next year.”

“Why?”

“Why? You figure that out yourself, brother. If you can’t understand this, what kind of official are you!” The clerk turned and entered the office, leaving the dumbfounded Qiao Henian standing in the cold wind.

“Later I learned the truth—the Personnel Ministry’s Manchu Minister was Baojun’s examination classmate and close friend. This was all a trap set from the beginning—they praised them and ensnared me. Ridiculously, I had sincerely called on Baojun to thank him, only now realizing he wished nothing more than my death in Anhui.” Having said this in one breath, Qiao Henian smiled bitterly.

“So that’s how it was.” Gu Pingyuan felt uncomfortable. “I was the one who implicated you—if I hadn’t asked you to submit that memorial…”

“No, I was eager to do this. To bring down Wang Tiangui and avenge my brother and sister-in-law, I’d risk my life gladly.” Qiao Henian cut off Gu Pingyuan’s words, speaking decisively.

Gu Pingyuan felt greatly comforted, not because Qiao Henian expressed no regrets, but because this statement proved his character unchanged.

“Then why did you enter a bandit den and become their military advisor?” Could it be that in a fit of anger he abandoned his official position to become a thief? This was truly inconceivable.

Qiao Henian’s expression changed at these words, then thinking that Gu Pingyuan must have detected the suspicious circumstances, there was no need to hide it. After a moment of silence he spoke: “Knowing that coming to Anhui was dangerous, I naturally couldn’t bring my nephew and niece along, so I found a Shanxi family in Beijing to foster them, not knowing when I might return to the capital again. I borrowed here and there to provide three years’ food money. Being a poor Beijing official, this expenditure left me completely drained. Without the travel pass, I had to pay out of pocket for food, lodging and transport along the thousand-li journey—no small sum. I couldn’t maintain official dignity, sometimes walking, sometimes catching rides on carts or boats, eating dry rations when hungry, staying at carter’s inns when tired.”

“Didn’t you say earlier that Baojun gave you fifty taels as congratulations?”

“How could I use that money? Once I learned the truth, I returned it to the steps of his grand mansion.”

Gu Pingyuan listened with deep respect, nodding solemnly.

Traveling day and night this way, he finally reached Anhui province, only to find warfare around Luzhou requiring a detour through Anqing. Now even his carefully calculated funds weren’t enough, so Qiao Henian had no choice but to pawn his official robes. To save money, he traveled with a troupe of street performers he encountered on the road, and to take a shortcut they went toward Hanging Death Ridge, where they encountered bandits.

Bandits had their rules—”all trades and professions” were considered fellow wanderers, and generally speaking, paying passage fees would get you through without trouble. The problem was that a young man in the performance troupe was overly brave and spoke too boldly, angering the bandits who drew blades to strike. The troupe naturally fought back in self-defense. After a chaotic battle, people scattered in all directions—those with quick legs escaped, while Qiao Henian, a powerless scholar, was captured and taken up the mountain as a hostage.

The most unfortunate hostages were those with no one to pay ransom—”pole tickets” who faced certain death. The bandits determined that Qiao Henian was an outsider with no relatives or friends locally, nowhere to send ransom demands—a complete “pole ticket” not even worth waiting for. They planned to kill him immediately.

Qiao Henian had thought that coming to Anhui might cost him his life, but he’d imagined that after filling a county position, if he encountered Taiping attacks on the city, he would certainly die rather than submit, and the court would surely provide generous compensation, bringing honor to the Qiao family ancestors. He never expected to fall into bandit hands and disappear from the world without trace or sound—such a meaningless death. Thinking this, sorrow, grief, melancholy and bitterness all rushed to his heart, and he couldn’t help composing a death poem.

Coincidentally, as Qiao Henian recited his poem, Chief Qiu Xiong overheard. Though Qiu Xiong was crude, he’d heard “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” and had long pondered recruiting a Zhuge Liang as his military advisor to unite several mountain strongholds and expand his power. Hearing Qiao Henian’s poetry, though he didn’t understand it, he was certain this was a scholar. He immediately ordered Qiao Henian’s release, and learning he was an outsider made it even better—no worry about secret communication with local authorities.