The group, having eaten and drunk their fill, walked out of the tavern to find the middle-aged man in silk shirt with a steel whip at his waist waiting at the door. Behind him stood two servants, each leading a fine horse with exquisite saddles and bridles. Upon seeing Wei Xun emerge, the middle-aged man immediately approached with a welcoming smile, introducing himself:
“I am Qiao Shi of Qilin Head Whip. I have long admired the great name of the Blue-Robed Guest. Young hero, as you pass through this place, forgive me for not fulfilling my duties as host. These two horses are a small token of my Qiao family’s regard—please use them for travel.”
Wei Xun felt sullen and listlessly said, “I’ve never been to Xinfeng, and you don’t know me. What do you mean by ‘long admired’?”
Being so bluntly rebuffed without any face-saving, Qiao Shi was startled. He thought to himself that the rumors were indeed accurate—this person was aloof and unsociable, sharp-edged, with no intention of befriending fellow jianghu members. Fortunately, this response confirmed he hadn’t mistaken the person’s identity, which was good.
Chen Shigu’s temperament was eccentric, but his skills were astounding. He was learned in astronomy above and geography below, excelling in both literary and martial arts. If he wished, he could have been a founding grandmaster of righteousness or become a generation’s hero of evil. Fortunately, he spent his whole life focused only on tomb robbing, which actually benefited the jianghu. With Chen Shigu’s death and his disciples scattered to the winds, this was another major variable requiring serious attention.
The one who inherited Chen Shigu’s martial legacy was his first disciple—an unparalleled genius with a rebellious nature that even his master couldn’t control. However, his movements were as mysterious as a ghost’s. In the few years since leaving his master, most who had fought him were dead, so neither his martial style nor his true appearance were known. This made it difficult even to give him a proper nickname, so based on rumors, they could only call him “Blue-Robed Guest.”
Qiao Shi, an old hand in jianghu for many years, wasn’t offended by Wei Xun’s rudeness and continued smiling: “Your junior martial brother Ghost Hand Vajra Qiu Ren passed through Xinfeng a few days ago. I had the honor of sharing a few drinks with him.”
Wei Xun laughed coldly: “That fat fool is no genius—what does he have to do with me?”
Qiao Shi thought there was indeed a great connection. Qiu Ren inherited his school’s tradition of arrogance and contempt, looking down on sect leaders, predecessors, and great sect masters alike. Only when mentioning his senior martial brother did he show a mixture of respect and fear. A few nights ago at a banquet, Qiao Shi had gifted Qiu Ren fifty taels of gold before the man “casually” mentioned his senior brother’s whereabouts. Qiao Shi immediately stationed people throughout the city to watch, hoping to encounter this elusive wandering hero-thief.
Unlike the homeless wandering heroes, the Qiao family had lived in this place for generations, making their living by horse trading. Though he wielded a steel whip as his weapon and had great wealth and influence, his martial arts weren’t outstanding. Qiao Shi had long decided that even if he couldn’t successfully befriend this man, he must never make an enemy of him. No matter what Wei Xun said, he would maintain an agreeable appearance of “you speak reasonably.”
Besides horses, he had originally prepared two young servant girls, but seeing Wei Xun already accompanied by a beautiful woman, he feared offending him and quickly had them sent back home.
Qiao Shi smiled and whispered, “I wanted to enter earlier to offer a toast, but seeing the young hero had a beautiful companion, I didn’t wish to disturb and waited here instead.”
He extended the reins of the two fine horses. Wei Xun ignored them completely, too lazy to acknowledge him. He led the donkey over, waited for Bao Zhu to settle herself, pulled out the stick he’d planted by the tavern door earlier, grabbed the reins, and walked away.
Qiao Shi stared in astonishment, watching this legendary aloof and sharp-edged young genius with his rebellious nature lead the donkey and its rider away like a servant.
After walking a distance on the road, seeing Wei Xun only silently hurrying along without chatting and joking with her as before, Bao Zhu knew it was because she had teased him earlier about his wall marking. So she said, “I heard that man call you ‘Blue-Robed Guest’—it’s a fine nickname.”
Wei Xun only gave a low “Mm.”
Bao Zhu continued, “Yuan Zhen wrote ‘Blue robes grow dark through summer, white hair thickens with longing for home,’ Bai Letian wrote ‘White hair added to today’s temples, blue robe unchanged from last year’s form,’ and Master Fuli wrote ‘Fragrance must still be osmanthus, blue emerges from indigo.’ These famous lines all praise the noble purity of blue, with the meaning that blue surpasses indigo.”
Hearing her speak such pearls of wisdom, Wei Xun felt even more desolate.
“This nickname was just randomly given by people who don’t know me, seeing I often wear this color. It has nothing to do with noble character or lack thereof. I wear blue robes because blue cloth is cheapest. I burrow in tomb dirt daily and drink wine from dead people—where’s the purity in that?”
Bao Zhu was silent for a while, then said, “However bad things are for you, they’re worse for me. I was granted the title Wanshou (Ten Thousand Years), but only lived seventeen years before dying—I’m still 9,983 years short of ten thousand.”
Wei Xun looked back at her in surprise, seeing her expression forlorn with slightly reddened eyes, clearly touched by painful thoughts. He reflected that she was now homeless, her body still alive but her social relationships equivalent to death. No matter how pleasant her name or title sounded, no one would call her by them anymore.
Shisan Lang interjected at this moment: “You’re both better off than me. I have no nickname—when people are in good moods, they call me ‘little monk,’ when in bad moods, ‘little baldy’…” He glanced carefully at Bao Zhu and blinked, “When cursing, it’s ‘dead bald thief.'”
Bao Zhu was amused by him, tears nearly falling as she recalled: “When I was small, Mother once took me on a spring outing in the outskirts of Chang’an. We encountered a barefoot old Taoist who read my physiognomy and said this child would have wealth and honor throughout life, but wouldn’t live long and would die young before marriage. Father was shocked and terrified, hastily granting me the title Princess Wanshou. He sought several large boxes of longevity locks and protective charms, even specially built a Shangxian Temple to register my name for blessings. Never expected that what was meant to come would still come.”
Wei Xun asked, “What did that old Taoist look like?”
Bao Zhu said, “I was only about a year old then, still needing to be carried everywhere. How could I remember anything? It was all told by the old people in the palace.” She thought a moment and sighed again, “There are many things in this world that don’t match their names. I was granted the title Wanshou but died young. You’re called Wei Xun (Wei Instructed), but where have you been instructed? I think you should be called Wei Bu Xun (Wei Not Instructed) instead.”
Chen Shigu had indeed given him this name because his rebellious disciple had been unruly and difficult to train from childhood. Of course, it had absolutely no effect.
Wei Xun nodded in agreement, so the three of them looked at each other and laughed, putting the earlier incident behind them.
Bao Zhu asked, “Why didn’t you accept the horses that man offered? Though they weren’t exceptional steeds, they’d still be good for transportation.”
Wei Xun said, “Courtesies without cause. Qilin Head Whip is a horse dealer—of his ten parts business, seven parts are trading and three parts stealing. If he had ill intent and gave us two stolen government horses, we’d have trouble on the road.”
Bao Zhu said wonderingly, “Government horses all have brand marks on their rumps that can be identified at a glance. How would he dare steal them?”
Wei Xun smiled, “When generations work this trade, naturally they have connections and secrets. The Qiao family has a special wound medicine for horses that promotes healing—applied repeatedly, hair can regrow over brand scars, making the marks unclear.”
Bao Zhu exclaimed, “What cunning horse dealers!”
Wei Xun added, “I heard in recent years they’ve gotten too lazy for even that—they just use the loss system.”
“What’s that?”
“Horses are too delicate and finicky about food, hard to care for. They’re not as sturdy as donkeys for long journeys. Dying from climate change, exhaustion from long travel, or injury from broken legs—these count as losses. As long as you grease the right palms, reporting slightly higher losses turns the government’s good horses into ‘dead horses’ that become the Qiao family’s merchandise.”
Wei Xun stopped there, giving her a sidelong glance.
Bao Zhu immediately understood. Now the court was full of bribery. Even imperial concubines and princesses deep in the palace had people seeking them out, hoping they’d whisper in the emperor’s ear to exchange for some minor appointed position. Over time, such things became commonplace. Though this matter had nothing to do with her personally, as imperial family living off nationwide territories, this trend seemed somehow connected to her.
After pondering for a long time, she said, “That Qiao Shi’s horses really couldn’t be accepted. No wonder you, this penny-pinching iron rooster, insisted on paying ten times the price for an incredibly ugly donkey.”
Hearing her insult it, the donkey immediately kicked in protest. Wei Xun firmly held its bridle so it couldn’t buck, and it chattered angrily—probably donkey profanity.
Seeing Wei Xun walking the whole way with reins in one hand and that four-foot-long stick in the other, Bao Zhu guessed and guessed but still couldn’t figure out its specific purpose. “What are you actually doing with that stick?”
Wei Xun said, “I picked it up on the road. You see it’s very straight and very long.”
Bao Zhu looked puzzled toward Shisan Lang, who also saw nothing wrong with picking up a stick and was actually happy about it: “Indeed very straight and very long—a rare good stick.”
“I’m asking what you picked it up for!”
Wei Xun looked at her strangely: “It’s very straight and very long—that’s already an advantage. As for how to use it, I picked it up and will think about it slowly.”
Shisan Lang quickly said, “Senior brother, let me play with it a while.” Taking the stick, he waved it around, then posed as a virtuous high monk, treating it like a traveling staff, tossing it back and forth with Wei Xun in great enjoyment. Bao Zhu was caught between laughter and tears—this was actually a free toy.
Later they encountered an old man selling malt candy. The two martial brothers looked at her simultaneously with expectant eyes. Bao Zhu sighed and generously allocated two coins for them to buy candy.
Having received refined upbringing, naturally she couldn’t eat and drink while mounted on the street. Seeing their carefree joy, at first she only found it childish and laughable, but later somehow felt envious. “Cloud nets spread high to hunt birds and beasts, golden whips point far to empty mulberry groves”—her grand hunting expeditions on dragon steeds and precious horses might not have been purer than their free pleasures.
After they played for a while, Wei Xun thought a moment, then cut the stick to three feet with his blade. He carefully shaved off the rough bark and tested its balance on his finger before handing it to Bao Zhu.
Bao Zhu held the stick and stared wide-eyed, not understanding his meaning.
Shisan Lang sighed disappointedly: “You gave it to her again. I wanted to use it as a walking stick.”
Wei Xun laughed and scolded: “When you’re old and lame and can’t walk, pick up your own.”
Bao Zhu said angrily, “Thank you, but I’m not old enough to need a walking stick either.”
Wei Xun said, “It’s for self-defense. Your strength is too weak—if one arrow can’t seal the throat and the opponent closes in, you can only wait helplessly for death. Archers have always been the strongest warriors in armies—fighting at distance relies on skilled archery and horsemanship, but when enemies close in, they abandon bows for slashing. Since you’ve practiced archery diligently, why didn’t you learn close combat weapons?”
Bao Zhu was stunned for a moment: “I practiced archery for hunting, not killing people. I only needed skilled archery and horsemanship. If one arrow didn’t kill the prey and it counterattacked, I had large numbers of guards to block it for me.”
Wei Xun said, “Right, now you don’t have large numbers of guards. Hold this stick and practice with it.”
His logic was irrefutable. Bao Zhu didn’t want to admit her martial arts had major flaws, so she muttered quietly, “I could buy a proper three-foot sword for protection.”
Hearing this, both Wei Xun and Shisan Lang laughed. “Starting with a sharp-edged weapon—whether you can hurt enemies is unknown, but you’ll easily chop your own toes or scratch your face.”
Bao Zhu was alarmed, touching her much-treasured face. After careful consideration, she still stuck the picked-up wooden staff diagonally in her baggage behind her. Suddenly resentment arose—though she had fallen into jianghu, at least she still had one guard beside her. Did this little thief really not plan to protect her in moments of crisis, but instead tell her to fight enemies herself?
In her indignation, Bao Zhu secretly resolved to frequently practice archery on the road. When her strength recovered enough for one arrow to seal throats, these two little thieves wouldn’t dare laugh at her. Then she imagined herself mounted on a fine horse, drawing bow and nocking arrows, turning heads with heroic bearing, but now riding this awkward ugly donkey—no matter how accurate her archery, the image would surely be unsightly. She couldn’t help but sigh mournfully.
Shisan Lang added, “I heard the former crown prince was stripped of his position after a bear clawed his face. Even with guards accompanying you, this hunting game is quite dangerous.”
Bao Zhu’s face immediately darkened as she said seriously, “That matter wasn’t so simple. Don’t speak carelessly about it.”
Wei Xun looked at her strangely: “He was your elder brother too, wasn’t he? What—not familiar?”
Bao Zhu thought to herself, far from unfamiliar—these imperial children, even born of the same parents, would turn against each other over power, needing to see the other’s blood spilled before feeling at ease. After the Xuanwu Gate Incident, this was almost a curse on the Li Tang royal family. After such vicious battles, how could casualties be compared by counting arrows and blades?
The journey continued. The group was about to leave Xinfeng County when they bought steamed cakes as travel provisions.
The food stall was set up near the city gate where many travelers passed from east to west. The proprietor had set up an awning outside for shade, and steaming baskets billowed great clouds of vapor that obscured the diners’ figures. As Bao Zhu rode the donkey past, a traveling merchant hidden behind the steamer’s vapor glanced at her once, hastily stuffed his cake into his mouth in two or three bites, quickly shouldered his pack, settled his bill, and set off.
Wei Xun seemed to sense something but didn’t look back.
Volume Two: White Snake Princess