“His great-grandfather was Cao Budao, so today’s situation may not be a coincidence,” Yun Ya turned to ask Cao Qinghe, “Have you ever seen the local River God?”
Cao Qinghe shook his head in confusion, but Feng Miaojun remembered what Lu Ming had told her earlier: the newest image of the River God was commissioned and carved with money from the Prefect’s son. The Cao family had only a single son for three generations, and Cao Qinghe was the Prefect’s grandson, so his father had personally seen the River God.
By asking this, was Yun Ya suspecting some connection between the River God and the Cao family?
“Was Cao Budao also an accomplished cultivator?”
“Hmm.” Yun Ya leaned back lazily, “He was a fortune-teller.”
“But quite an accurate one.”
So this meant he was skilled in divination and could foresee the future? “He was very famous. Did he ever tell your fortune?”
Yun Ya glanced at her, smiling without a word.
She hated his mysterious manner the most. But his expression clearly said three words: I won’t tell.
She could figure it out herself. Yun Ya was hardly an agreeable person, so why would he agree to take Cao Qinghe to Huanggang just upon hearing he was Cao Budao’s descendant?
There was some connection between the two, and perhaps Cao Budao had once divined for Yun Ya. This then raised the question of Yun Ya’s age. A cultivator’s appearance didn’t correspond to their actual age. This fellow’s face was even smoother than a woman’s—could his actual age make him an ancient monster?
Yun Ya’s action was tantamount to defying the decree, showing contempt for the sovereign’s authority—an extremely serious offense. If this matter reached the Wei King’s ears, it would certainly cause trouble.
With nothing else to do, she changed the subject to make conversation: “What does the River God’s lair look like?”
“I’m not sure.”
Strange? Everything that exists leaves traces. The River God had been present in the Ji Yuan area for so long, with deep roots like a great tree. How could it not have built its palace beneath the water? When Yun Ya fought fiercely with it yesterday, he should have examined its lair.
“After it fled, I searched the nearby waterways, but found only the nests of ordinary aquatic creatures.”
Feng Miaojun asked curiously: “What does that mean? Could it not live in the river?” Many amphibious creatures preferred to build their nests on land—perhaps the River God was similar?
Yun Ya smiled, showing his teeth: “Who knows.”
His smile could be called perfect, but to Feng Miaojun it seemed malicious: “Do you know when the local River God appeared in Ji Yuan, and when it was consecrated as a water spirit by the Jiao Kingdom?”
She shook her head, unfamiliar with local history.
“Both happened fifty years ago,” clearly Yun Ya possessed more complete information than she did, “which was during Cao Budao’s prime years.”
So, “The River God was connected to him?”
“Judging from the timeline, we can’t rule out that possibility.”
“If Cao Budao had such supernatural abilities, why was his lifespan comparable to ordinary mortals?” Cao Budao had already passed away and hadn’t lived exceptionally long.
“Of those who pry into Heaven’s secrets, how many can live to die of natural causes?” Yun Ya’s voice carried a hint of sarcasm, “His life was already considered long.”
Heaven’s secrets—did such things exist? She pondered.
The carriage rolled on, quickly reaching Huanggang.
The Wei army was busy organizing Ji Yuan City and wouldn’t come to Huanggang, over twenty li away from the city. As invaders, the Wei army’s control over newly acquired territories was limited; they could only secure a few major cities along their route. Such rural places would be temporarily left unattended.
Cao Qinghe would be safe here.
Following the route provided by the boy, they traversed half of Huanggang, finally finding Cao Budao’s estate at the foot of a mountain.
The estate’s name was also interesting, called “Falling Bud Estate.”
The place was already quite remote with no one nearby, so Feng Miaojun released Cao Qinghe. The child explained that Falling Bud Estate was the Cao family’s old residence, though Cao Budao didn’t like family members living there. After his death, it had been left vacant, with only an old family servant remaining as caretaker. The Cao family had flourished in Ji Yuan City, treating this place as an ancestral shrine and returning once a year for ceremonies.
The one who came to open the door was a stooped, white-haired old man who looked even older than Cao Bing’an. He was somewhat hard of hearing, and Cao Qinghe had to speak loudly for him to hear.
Feng Miaojun could see at a glance that he was just an ordinary elderly human.
Fortunately, this “Uncle Liu” that Cao Qinghe mentioned was clear-headed and lucid. After hearing about the changes in Ji Yuan City and the Cao family’s fate, he remained silent for a long while before finally sighing: “So it has come to this.”
Feng Miaojun asked curiously: “Did Master Cao know this in advance?”
“When the master was alive, he said that arrogance seldom ends well, and advised his descendants to govern virtuously for the people’s benefit. Old Master Cao refused to listen, leading to today’s calamity!”
Old Master Cao referred to Cao Bing’an, the beheaded Prefect. In matters concerning life and death, it wasn’t so much a refusal to listen as becoming too accustomed to luxury over time, gradually forgetting the principle that fortune and misfortune are interdependent.
After sighing, he said: “You two have risked great danger to bring the young master here, Master Cao would certainly be grateful. Falling Bud Estate has been abandoned for a long time, no longer in its former glory. It has been robbed many times over the years, leaving nothing of value…”
Feng Miaojun tilted her head, glancing at Yun Ya. Why would the grand State Preceptor defy orders to escort a fugitive, traveling twenty li to do so? What was his intention? The old man had said there was nothing valuable left in this estate.
While she was pondering, Yun Ya had already composed his expression: “How can Uncle Liu say such things? My family once received guidance from Master Cao, bringing Cao Qinghe back is merely fulfilling a debt of gratitude. How could we need any reward?”
It had to be said that Yun Ya had a face that easily gained others’ favor, and his expression was unusually sincere. She almost believed him.
Almost.
She secretly twisted her mouth, hmph, what a performance.
Uncle Liu was indeed moved, tugging at his goatee: “Master Cao was a man of principle when he was alive. I cannot let you two leave empty-handed. How about drawing a divination lot?”
Now even Yun Ya was curious: “Master Cao has already passed away. How can he still divine for us?”
Uncle Liu smiled: “Before Master Cao departed, he said that not many people would visit after his death. Each visitor could draw a lot and receive a silk pouch from me to interpret it.”
This sounded so unreliable!
Perhaps because she had written her thoughts on her face, Yun Ya poked her soft cheek, smiling as he chided: “Haven’t you heard that every sip and peck is predestined?”
This was too idealistic for her to believe. It was already remarkable for ordinary people to arrange their affairs after death properly—how could Cao Budao manage others’ affairs as well?
The key question was, did Yun Ya believe it?
Of course, she couldn’t discern anything from his face. Uncle Liu also smiled as he led the two to the rear temple.
An ancestral shrine for the Cao family was built within the estate. On the long table before the shrine, besides incense, fresh flowers, and fruits, there was an inconspicuous container of divination sticks.
The divination container was made of the most common local white bamboo, with rough craftsmanship. From years of use, its surface had been worn smooth. Would any thieves who visited this place even be interested in such an item?
Uncle Liu happened to remark: “Ten years ago, a foolish thief stole this container, but on the seventh night, he returned it, though one stick was missing.”