The oil lamp fell to the ground and rolled rattling to the corner of the gate.
Zhang Shi’s eyes went wide, both hands seizing Old Lin Shi by the shoulders: “What did you say? The money was robbed?”
“Robbed… we met those blasted killers on the road—every bit of it is gone…”
Old Lin Shi wiped her tears and said that she had set out by relay carriage, the first day going smoothly. That evening they stayed at the relay station in Leyi Town with the couriers. But the next morning, shortly after leaving the relay station and getting on the road, they ran into a gang of highwaymen—black cloth over their faces, armed with weapons—who surrounded the carriage from all sides.
“You’re lying! Are you hiding the money and deceiving me?” Zhang Shi cried out, shaking Old Lin Shi violently. “Bandits would dare rob a relay carriage?”
“It’s true… they didn’t rob the relay carriage—they only came for me. They took the traveling bag, and then searched out even the private money I’d hidden in my shoe, leaving me not a single coin. Once they’d taken it they ran, and I walked back…”
Old Lin Shi was heartbroken, and Zhang Shi’s vision went dark.
She had weighed this opportunity over and over, and finally concluded the odds of success were very high—only then did she steel herself to take the gamble. She had not only put in every bit of savings accumulated over the years, but had also borrowed money at high interest, yet never in her wildest dreams had she imagined it would end like this.
She slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the ground, her hands and feet going cold and her teeth chattering, when she heard an angry shout from behind: “You woman—how dare you hide things from me?”
Zhang Shi’s heart sank. She knew things had gone wrong. The earlier voice had been too loud—it must have woken her husband and let him hear everything. She struggled to stand up from the ground, wanting to somehow cover it up, but looking up, she saw he had already come out and was glaring at her furiously. Knowing he must have heard it all, in despair and fear, not daring to defend herself as she usually did in their quarrels with the argument that she was only thinking of the family, she covered her face and wept bitterly, only begging her husband to report it to the authorities.
Yang Hong raged and cursed, but knew that what was done was done, and cursing was useless. As for reporting to the authorities—in a frontier backwater like this, the officials could barely manage to deal with killings and corpses left on the road, let alone highway robbery.
He stamped his foot in fury and stormed off.
With her husband gone in anger, Zhang Shi sat on the ground and wept a while longer, then seeing the neighbors coming out one after another to peer from their own doorways, afraid it would spread and bring shame, she forced herself to hold back her tears. She clambered up from the ground, leaned against the wall, and made her way inside in a daze. Old Lin Shi didn’t dare follow her in, and felt her way to the kitchen, collapsed on the woodpile, and hugged her own two nearly-walked-off feet, wanting never to get up again.
Pu Zhu had finished watching the spectacle. She quietly closed the door, turned around, and saw that A’Ju was also awake, looking worried. She leaned close and whispered: “A’mu, don’t worry—nothing serious has happened. Let’s go back to sleep.”
Yang Hong spent that night rounding up some officer friends he was close with, searching all night, and naturally found nothing. The officers judged that it was probably someone at the relay station who had inadvertently revealed that she had money, or an experienced hand who had spotted the hidden gold on Old Lin Shi, and had then ambushed her to take it. But with travelers coming and going through this relay station every day—who knew how many people—how were you to investigate? It was like looking for a needle in the ocean.
Yang Hong counted himself unlucky, and still had duties to attend to, so he could only return home perfunctorily.
Zhang Shi fell ill the next day, lying listlessly in bed unable to get up. Old Lin Shi followed her lead and played dead, lying there moaning incessantly as if from a toothache. Yang Hong was heading out again for several days, and the household was in chaos. He was frazzled and irritated, and before leaving borrowed a few hundred coins from someone, handed them to A’Ju, and entrusted the household affairs to her. Seeing Pu Zhu caring for his son, he thanked her with a guilty expression, and then hurried away.
Having put Yang Hong in such a state of distress, Pu Zhu felt a little bad about it, but on second thought, even now at its worst it was better than the outcome in her previous life. With that thought, her conscience was at ease. The only trouble was that A’Ju was now busier than ever, with two fronts to look after. To make matters worse, Zhang Ao had also left—her nephew in the neighboring town was getting married, and she had asked to go help for a couple of days.
After that Honglu Temple party had departed, the relay station keeper had received no news of any important visitors expected to pass through in the near term and had let her go. The kitchen duties at the relay station today were handled by A’Ju and the other woman, the one surnamed Wang.
Night had fallen, past the Hour of Hai. At this hour, the households in Fulu Zhen had long gone dark with no lights visible.
A’Ju, who had been working all day, had washed up and just lain down. Pu Zhu, worried about how tired she was, had her lie face down on the pillow while she knelt beside her, kneading her shoulders and lightly thumping her back.
A’Ju had a feeling—since the little young mistress had recovered from her illness this time, she had become even more thoughtful and caring than before. She felt warmth in her heart, but was reluctant to accept the treatment. Unable to withstand both the cajoling and the commands, she finally smiled and complied, lying down as told.
Pu Zhu knelt beside her, kneading her shoulders and gently thumping her back.
A’Ju lay with her eyes closed for a moment, then suddenly opened them, turned over, and got up. She went to her sewing basket and brought back a soft piece of cloth, then gestured for Pu Zhu to raise her arms.
At first Pu Zhu didn’t understand, and looked at it curiously.
A’Ju pointed to her own chest.
Pu Zhu looked down and understood.
She was nearly sixteen, and the old undergarment she had worn for over a year was getting uncomfortably tight. A’Ju was attentive—she must have noticed, and wanted to make her a new one.
She raised her eyes, and A’mu was smiling warmly at her.
She pressed her lips together in a smile, obediently raised her arms, and let her use the cloth to measure around her chest. Just then, someone outside the door called for A’Ju—the voice was that of a courier from the relay station.
A’Ju set down what she was doing, wrapped herself in a coat, went out and opened the door. It turned out that some people had just arrived at the relay station, and the keeper wanted her to go make food right away.
Usually this meant the newly-arrived guests had some official rank or status, and leftover food from earlier couldn’t be served. No matter how late, a fresh fire had to be lit.
It was this late, and A’mu had been working all day—she had barely lain down for a moment. Pu Zhu didn’t want her to have to go again, so she came out and asked: “Isn’t Nanny Wang still there? Why not call her instead? My A’mu is only a hired helper.”
The courier smiled apologetically: “The ones who just arrived seem to be distinguished guests—I could see the keeper was extremely deferential. And he says your A’mu’s cooking is neat and clean, so he sent me to fetch her. I’m sorry for the trouble—could you come quickly?”
The relay kitchen was small but still had a strict hierarchy. Before, A’Ju had only been allowed to do rough work like chopping wood, hauling water, and washing vegetables—she had no right to approach the stove. If Zhang Ao was unavailable, the one to step in was Nanny Wang. But when Zhang Ao had opened her mouth that day and had A’Ju take over as assistant cook, today the food in the relay station had all been A’Ju’s doing. The keeper had apparently eaten and been satisfied, and now, even at this late hour, was calling for A’Ju again.
A’Ju was good-natured and, hearing this, nodded and went in to get dressed.
Pu Zhu was unhappy, but there was nothing to be done.
Who was she now, after all?
She couldn’t blame Xu Chong—he had always been very good to her. She silently cursed the so-called distinguished guest who had crawled out of nowhere and was causing trouble for others this late at night, hastily dressed herself too, and followed along to go with A’Ju. Even just helping her tend the fire would be something.
A’Ju couldn’t stop her, and with the door being urged so impatiently, she let her be, and the two hurried together to the relay station.
Xu Chong was waiting for A’Ju. Seeing her arrive, he came forward and urged: “I’m sorry for the trouble—please be quick! The honored guests must leave westward first thing tomorrow morning. If they eat early, they can rest early. Nothing elaborate—two or three dishes to go with the rice will do, but they must be prepared cleanly. We cannot afford any mishaps.”
Never mind the Wang woman—even Zhang Ao’s cooking regularly had hair or insects mixed in. The people at the relay station were long accustomed to it. Seeing something, they’d just pick it out; not seeing it, they’d just eat it anyway. Even the officials and envoys who stopped here would know from the location that this was a remote border relay station—being able to eat their fill was already good enough, who would bother about such things.
The courier also heard such a requirement from the keeper for the first time, and was intensely curious about who the newly-arrived guests were, but with the question on the tip of his tongue, he knew asking was pointless since he’d be told nothing, and swallowed it back down.
A’Ju hurried to the kitchen, lit two oil lamps, steamed rice, and prepared the dishes. Pu Zhu helped her tend the fire, and before long, faint white steam and the fragrance of food began to drift up from above the stove.
After two quarters of an hour, the food was ready. A’Ju carefully washed the bowls and dishes again, arranged the food neatly in a food box, and thoughtfully made an extra portion of sweet red date steamed rice for Pu Zhu, telling her to sit and eat slowly. She then picked up the food box and hurried out with the keeper.
Pu Zhu sniffed the sweet fragrance rising from the dessert and was just about to eat when suddenly outside, with a soft thud, something was tossed through the door—a small stone that landed right at her feet.
Her heart stirred.
She had originally agreed to meet Cui Xuan last night, but for some unknown reason he had not returned to Fulu Zhen yesterday.
On instinct, Pu Zhu trusted that he wouldn’t have taken the money and disappeared. She was just a little worried that something might have happened to him.
She walked to the doorway and looked out. With one glance she saw a head poking over the top of the wall across the way—seeing her come out, it waved at her.
Tonight was a full moon, the moonlight spilling out like silver from a cracked jar. She could see clearly: the person on the wall—who else but Cui Xuan?
The relay station’s surrounding wall was very high—over a zhang—with no trees outside to climb and bare all around. She had no idea how he had scaled such a high wall.
Pu Zhu quickly looked left and right. She figured A’Ju would be gone for a while yet before coming back, quickly left the kitchen, passed through the stable at the back, opened the rear gate of the relay station, and slipped out.
Cui Xuan leaped down from the wall in one bound, landing steady on the ground, and gestured for her to follow him.
A few steps from the relay station’s rear gate and the path opened out to the countryside beyond the town—a stretch of open ground where a small hill rose up. Standing on top in the daytime, you could look out and see the Great Wall in the distance. At this moment, in the moonlight-free shadow all around, it was pitch black with not even a ghost’s silhouette to be seen.
Pu Zhu hesitated briefly.
The townspeople might speak of this wandering knight with fear, but Pu Zhu felt no sense of danger from him.
She guessed he had come to hand over the gold, and speaking inside town was inconvenient—walls had ears.
She followed him, and the two stopped at the foot of the hill.
Sure enough, Cui Xuan held out a bundle and said quietly: “This is yours—take it safe. Don’t worry, I did it cleanly enough that even if they report it to the authorities, it can’t be traced back to me. Count it.”
Pu Zhu took the heavy bundle, said there was no need to count, and then, thinking of the young man’s fate in her previous life, felt a pang of regret and couldn’t help but say: “Have you heard any recent news about Liu Protector-General Liu Chong recruiting soldiers?”
Cui Xuan paused. “You know about that too?”
Pu Zhu hedged vaguely: “I was at the relay station the other day and happened to overhear someone mention it.”
Cui Xuan nodded. “That’s right. I went to the prefectural city today and heard about it too. I’m leaving tomorrow. This time I mean to kill even more Di people!”
Pu Zhu said quietly: “I think you’d better not go.”
Cui Xuan was taken aback. “Why? A man born into this world—if he doesn’t pursue glory and achievement, titles and honors, what’s the difference from being dead?”
Pu Zhu said: “I lived in the prefectural city for a few years earlier. Liu Protector-General was never particularly well-regarded by the people. And now he’s recruiting soldiers again. The last time he recruited, it was because the Di raiders were pressing at the border and there weren’t enough troops—that’s why he took in irregular soldiers. Right now the Di haven’t made any major moves. I keep feeling this is different from the last time. You’d better wait a while, don’t rush. Wait until there’s a genuine border crisis, then go and enlist—it won’t be too late.”
Cui Xuan seemed to hesitate, and took a long time to respond.
Since she had already spoken, she might as well see the good deed through to the end—it could also be counted as repayment for his quick cooperation this time.
Pu Zhu added: “I heard from my Uncle Yang that there’s a beacon tower under his command. A deputy post has recently become vacant there—it requires someone who can read and write, and you know how it is here, most people can’t even read a single character. He’s short of people and can’t find a replacement for now, so he’s temporarily covering it himself, running back and forth every day, which is very tiring. The people in town say you’ve loved reading military texts since you were small, so of course you can read. Could you temporarily go and help my Uncle Yang? You want to fight enemies—you have a man’s ambition—going there would be the same. A beacon tower isn’t just for watching—I’ve heard my Uncle Yang say, more times than I can count, that the Di have sent men sneaking in to attack time and again, precisely wanting to take down the beacon towers to cut off communications. So you see—that’s where the life-and-death battles of the front lines truly begin.”
Cui Xuan was fired up by her words, his blood running hot, and he also felt she was looking out for him. He instantly abandoned his plan to join Liu Chong, no longer hesitating, and agreed readily: “I’ll do as you say! Please help recommend me to Yang Houzhang.”
Having finally persuaded him, Pu Zhu let out a breath of relief. The image of that skinny monkey-like young man Fei Wan floated into her mind, and she decided to send the Buddha all the way to paradise: “Then advise your men too—tell them not to rush, wait until fighting really breaks out, then they can go and enlist.”
Cui Xuan agreed: “Whatever you say—I’ll listen to you! I’ll tell them not to go for now. Anyone who dares go, I’ll break his legs!”
Pu Zhu was momentarily speechless. But the goal had been achieved, and she asked: “Why didn’t you come back yesterday? Did something go wrong on the road?”
Cui Xuan said nothing, glanced at her, and then suddenly rubbed his stomach. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving. I left today to hurry back, only got back at nightfall. The moment I arrived I came looking for you. Your family’s gate was shut the whole time.”
“I only ate one flatbread in the morning.” He paused and said quietly.
Pu Zhu was startled, and immediately thought of the sweet rice A’Ju had left for her. She nodded and told him to wait a moment, turned to go back and get it, when she suddenly heard him say: “Wait!”
Pu Zhu stopped and looked back at him.
In his hand was a narrow, oblong flat box. He hesitated, then slowly held it out, speaking softly: “I was supposed to come back yesterday. I thought since I hadn’t been to the prefectural city in a long time, I went there first, had a look around the street, and happened to see this, so I bought it on the way back. Once I’d bought it, I realized a man like me has no use for it. You’re so pretty—it’ll suit you perfectly!”
Pu Zhu sensed it was an ornament box. Opening it, she confirmed it—inside was a hairpin.
In the moonlight the details were unclear, but it felt exquisitely made.
She was taken aback, then came to her senses.
She naturally couldn’t accept it.
She was just about to return it when suddenly from the shadowy hollow ahead at the base of the hill, there came a faint sound—as if a small stone on the ground had been kicked by something.
Cui Xuan’s eyes immediately sharpened. By reflex he reached for his waist, found nothing there, then remembered he hadn’t brought his sword that evening. He immediately stepped in front of Pu Zhu, shielding her, and barked toward the direction ahead: “Who’s there?”
Ye Xiao glanced at the master beside him.
In order to make time on the road today, they had arrived at this relay station called Fulu quite late, with the town already in complete darkness. The keeper received them, and he had not disclosed the master’s identity, only showing his own official medallion. After settling in, the keeper respectfully reported that food would be freshly prepared and would need a moment.
The master had always cared little for material things—except that since he was young he had loved horses. This current mount of his was said to be descended from a Ferghana heavenly horse, and he often personally fed and groomed it. Tonight was no exception. After leading the horse into the stable, he had taken a casual stroll out through the rear gate of the relay station beside the stable, coming here, and had climbed the small hill alone to gaze into the distance.
Seeing that the master seemed to have something weighing on his mind, Ye Xiao had not dared to disturb him, and only stood guard behind him. After a moment, he had come back down and was about to return, when he encountered this pair of young men and women coming here to exchange objects in secret.
He had been about to call them out, but hearing the young man speak first—talking of what seemed to be a conspiracy to commit an illegal act with that young girl—he was somewhat surprised. Then immediately the young girl began to speak and brought up Liu Chong. His heart stirred at that moment, and noticing that the master also seemed to be listening attentively, he had not alarmed them.
This young girl appeared to be an ordinary local girl from a common household, and naturally couldn’t have known Liu Chong’s secrets—yet she had such a precise intuition, and spoke very reasonably. He was still feeling a measure of astonishment when he saw this pair of young people apparently exchanging love tokens with tender feelings, and fearing this might be an affront to the master, he had kicked a stone on the ground to make a sound as a warning. The young man had indeed been alarmed and called out. He then stepped out from the shadows.
Cui Xuan was startled.
So nearby, there had actually been someone—and no telling how much had been heard! The ferocity in his nature instantly surged. His eyes showed killing intent, and he bent down, drew a hidden dagger from his boot, and strode forward toward the figure.