The Great Fen Ferry lived up to its name — throughout all four seasons, the wind and the water roared without ceasing, the sound booming and the current surging. At flood season, anyone standing at the crossing had to fill their lungs and shout at the top of their voice just to be heard by the person beside them.
The Hunhe River reached the Great Fen Ferry at a point along its upper-middle course, where the current ran fast — not the most ideal location for a crossing. But from here the river entered Guantian Gorge: a hundred li of gorge with sheer cliffs on both sides and no better place to cross anywhere along it. Over time, the bold people of Huozhou had long grown accustomed to the thrilling and perilous experience of threading their way through the waves. The occasional outsider who expressed dismay was sure to be met with good-natured mockery in return.
So Xiao Nanhui had guessed correctly. After half a month without a departure and now with the rain stopped, the water remained turbulent — but there would certainly be a bold boatman ready to set out. Where one dared to go, others would dare to follow.
When she and Bolao arrived at the crossing, one large ferry had just left the bank and disappeared into the fog. Beside the dock there was only one small vessel left, and it already looked close to capacity. The boatman appeared to have no intention of waiting for a full load — he was moving with obvious urgency.
The two of them, seeing this, quickly led their horses forward.
“Boatman, why such haste? By the look of the sky, conditions might improve around midday — the fog is too thick right now. Won’t it be dangerous?”
The boatman kept his hands busy as he replied: “Young sir, you may not know — last night there was a robbery here at the crossing. I hear there were even deaths. The authorities haven’t arrived yet, and once they do, the boat won’t be going anywhere — everyone will have to be questioned one by one. So if you’re looking to leave, you’d better be quick about it. Delay much longer and you won’t be getting out today.”
A robbery?
Without knowing quite why, the image that flashed through Xiao Nanhui’s mind was that family of six from the inn the previous night — with their lavish spread of food — and the rugged man with the cloth band tied around his forehead.
Meanwhile Bolao had already pressed the fare into the boatman’s hands. The boatman was an easy-going sort; after weighing the situation against the vessel’s capacity, he agreed. Fortunately the two of them traveled light, and with two horses added to the equation the boat turned out to be just exactly full.
The cabin was crammed to the brim. Only when she boarded did she discover that the merchant family she had been worried about was sitting right there, safe and sound, surrounded by a considerable pile of luggage — and she relaxed. She was just about to discuss with Bolao the plans for when they reached Huozhou, when she spotted two people sitting at the bow of the boat. Who else could it be but the pair who had “seized the room by force” the night before — Master Zhongli and his companion? Her good mood dropped by half immediately.
She turned her back and did her best not to look at those two. Over on that side, the boatman untied the mooring rope from the dock post and was about to set off, when an urgent cry came from the direction of the shore.
“Wait!”
Xiao Nanhui frowned and looked back. Out of the thin mist came a flash of white, and drawing closer she recognized it — the white-clad gentleman from the neighboring table the previous night.
He appeared to have just rolled out of bed; his clothes were still those of yesterday, his hair hastily pinned with a hairpin that had allowed one strand to escape and drift loose at the back of his head. He was clutching something that appeared to be a chamber pot, and between gasping breaths kept bending over it to retch.
“Boatman, wait! I — I need to board as well.”
The boatman was an honest sort and had no intention of taking on extra passengers beyond what his conscience allowed. He stated plainly: “Young man, I’m afraid this vessel is at capacity. One more person and she may well go under.”
“No, no—” The white-clad gentleman tossed aside whatever he’d been holding, hurried forward, grabbed the mooring rope, and was already trying to squeeze onto the boat. “I had to leave a beautiful woman behind just to catch this crossing — there’s no way I’m not getting on.”
The one nearest to him was the middle-aged merchant, who immediately showed his displeasure: “There are other people on this boat, you know. If it sinks because of you, are you expecting the entire boat to go down with you?”
His wife sat beside him clutching all four daughters, the lot of them nodding in unison like a row of bobbing heads. The other passengers likewise felt this was a fair point. Yet the white-clad gentleman was unfazed, and instead shifted his gaze to the large and small pieces of luggage piled about: “This is a passenger ferry, not a cargo vessel. All these packs and cases of yours — aren’t they taking up others’ space?”
The merchant was struck where it hurt, and some embarrassment crossed his face: “This is just tea and the like — it doesn’t weigh much.” His eyes then drifted pointedly to Jixiang and Huaqiu standing at the stern, leaving his implication plain to see.
Xiao Nanhui was afraid the horses would be the ones asked to leave, and was about to say something, but the white-clad gentleman had already reached into his garment and produced a cloth bundle, which he unfurled to reveal a row of gleaming silver needles: “I’m a physician, traveling to Huozhou to treat a patient — the man is gravely ill and waiting for my golden needles to save him. Here is my proposal, brother: I’ll pay you the silver for two loads of your tea. In exchange, you free up the space beside you for me.”
The merchant remained reluctant, but other passengers began to side with the “physician”: “He’s a doctor — and tea will have to be sold sooner or later, won’t it? In weather this damp, it probably won’t keep much longer anyway. Might as well do a good deed. It may well be the merit that comes from saving someone’s life.”
In the end, the white-clad gentleman made it onto the boat — leaving two loads of tea cakes sitting on the dock for the merchant.
The last ferry pushed off from the bank. In the heavy fog over the Great Fen, there was nothing to be heard but the wind and the water.
On the rocky beach, scattered bloodstains had not yet been washed away by the river tide. The water beat against the shore, and a blood-soaked headband was pushed up onto the riverbank by the lapping waves.
The small boat rocked and swayed as it moved toward the center of the river. A mooring rope as thick as a wrist connected the bow to the stern, stretching away into the fog that refused to lift, as though it had no end. All around, the only sounds were the churning of the water and the occasional clunk of drifting ice fragments striking the hull. Everyone on board had the sensation of being a tiny ant fallen into a stream, tossed and turned upon this single narrow vessel.
Though the rain had stopped, the temperature on the Hunhe River was far lower than on the shore. The sides of the ferry rattled and swayed, open to the wind on all sides. Ding Weixiang draped a thick fur coat over Zhongli Jing’s shoulders, then took up his position at the windward side, hugging his sword, shielding the other man from the worst of the cold.
Xiao Nanhui glanced over with a touch of envy, then looked back at Bolao, who was curled into a tight ball against her back. She pulled out a piece of flatbread and took a firm bite — and before she’d chewed more than a few times, Bolao had snatched it away, evidently having not eaten enough the previous night due to pickiness.
“As a servant, one ought to observe the proper decorum of rank. A young master’s page really ought not to be so unruly — stealing food right from the master’s hand.”
She looked up. The white-clad gentleman had slipped over to sit beside her at some point, a folding fan in hand that he fanned with great elegance. Xiao Nanhui was fairly sure she could see the hairs on his exposed wrist standing up from the cold.
Of all the things in the world Bolao despised most passionately, two stood above all others: being talked down to on the basis of status, and being remarked upon for her small stature.
This single comment had offended her on both counts at once. In an instant, both her eyes sharpened into blades and raked across him.
Xiao Nanhui quickly shifted slightly sideways to block those two fierce glares, and offered the gentleman a pleasant smile: “The gentleman makes a fair point — only, this attendant of mine grew up alongside me from childhood, and our relationship has always been something far beyond the ordinary between master and servant. Besides, being out on the road like this, there’s little room for formality. Don’t you agree?”
The white-clad gentleman nodded pleasantly: “Quite right — men of such broad-mindedness as the young sir are a rare thing these days. We should most certainly get acquainted. My name is Hao Bai. May I ask the young sir’s name?”
Hao Bai? “Hao” meaning “good” and “Bai” meaning “white”?
She took a proper look at him now. The smell of last night’s alcohol still clung to him, and his garments were fastened unevenly — yet he had somehow found the time to dust his face with such a thick coat of fragrant powder. A notable individual, in his own way.
“Yaoyi.”
Without a flicker of expression, she gave him Yaoyi’s name, and for the first time felt that those mushrooms she’d given away hadn’t been entirely wasted.
“So it is Brother Yao — delighted to meet you.” That white-clad fool’s face lit up with genuine pleasure, and he launched into his own introduction without missing a beat: “I am from Wancheng in Jizhou. My family has practiced medicine for three generations, and I also deal in elixirs from time to time. Might I ask what line of work Brother Yao’s family is in?”
She tilted her corner of the mouth: “We run entertainment houses.”
Hao Bai went still for a moment, and a suspicious flush crept up his face — visible even beneath all that powder: “Brother Yao means to say—”
“Brothels.” She found his prim and sour expression rather amusing. “What, Master Hao spent last night in such charming feminine company, and yet he’s never been to a brothel?”
Hao Bai opened and closed his mouth without finding words, and for a moment seemed as though he truly never had.
Beside her, Bolao’s spirits lifted for no apparent reason. She clapped a hand on his shoulder with exaggerated solemnity: “Brother, what kind of man has never been to a brothel? Say the word next time — I’ll personally take you to broaden your horizons.”
“I also have never been to such a place. Would the young friend be willing to bring one more?”
The moment that voice sounded, Xiao Nanhui felt her scalp prickle. She didn’t need to turn around to know who had spoken.
Bolao was also startled by the person who had spoken up so suddenly, and turned to look at whoever was sitting behind her. A river breeze passed through, lifting loose strands of hair. In that strangely bewildering moment, for just an instant, he seemed to be smiling.
Several passengers on the boat happened to be looking in this direction just then, all wearing somewhat dumbfounded expressions.
She sensed something slightly off about the situation and moved to bring this unexpected exchange to a close: “Master Zhongli is surely a person of refined station — a place like that would be beneath you.”
“My surname is Zhongli, given name Jing.”
She hadn’t anticipated such a direct response to her deflection and could only manage a perfunctory reply: “I see, so it’s Master Zhongli Jing — a pleasure to meet you.”
“A meeting of a thousand li is a fortunate thing indeed. Might I ask what brings Master Yao to Huozhou?”
Here it comes. I knew you had no good intentions.
Xiao Nanhui fumed inwardly, but had no choice but to play along: “I heard the fifth day of the fifth month will soon be the Zhuming Festival — I’ve come to take in the festivities.”
The Zhuming Festival was one of the four great ceremonial observances — Qingyang, Zhuming, Baicang, and Xuanying — and was traditionally held in Huozhou. Chizhou had long maintained the custom of offering sacrifices to the divine. Among these, the Baicang and Xuanying rites were closely guarded imperial affairs, known to few outsiders. Following the fall of the Qiu dynasty, they had gradually faded from public awareness. But the Qingyang Festival — which had originated in Wancheng — and the Zhuming Festival in Huozhou had been preserved and remained widely observed to the present day.
“Oh? There’s such a celebration?” Before Zhongli Jing could speak, Hao Bai’s interest was already piqued. “In any case, I’ve nothing pressing to do — why don’t we all go and take a look?”
She gave him a sideways look: “Didn’t Master Hao have an urgent patient to attend to?”
“It’s only the fifth day today — three days is plenty of time. And if three days pass and the patient still hasn’t recovered, then it is the King of Hell who intends to keep him, and there’s nothing more I can do.”
Well, quite the confident claim.
Xiao Nanhui took it for empty boasting and paid it no mind. At that very moment, the boatman suddenly bellowed: “Drifting ice — hold on!”
Before the words had fully faded, a massive impact struck. The ferry pitched violently and lurched sideways. A wave half a person’s height crashed over and soaked half the boat in an instant. Everyone on board cried out in alarm. Jixiang and Huaqiu on the stern deck began to slide and scramble for footing.
Her heart lurched. She seized the gunwale and peered out at the water. Perpendicular to the hull, the river was surging with chunks of drifting ice, growing visibly larger — it had to be a massive block of ice from upstream that had thawed and broken loose after the rain stopped, now rushing downstream in a cascade.
Xiao Nanhui was a martial artist by training, and excellent in most respects — but swimming was not among her strengths.
To say nothing of navigating a powerful, ice-cold current; even a calm little pond without a single ripple could be the end of her. If this boat went down, she would die without ever having accomplished what she had set out to do.
Instinctively she reached for the cloth bundle strapped to her back — it was only the length of a short sword, and its contents could not be determined from the outside. But her hand had barely touched it before she let it fall again.
There were not many people on this boat, yet who could guarantee that none among them were enemies? Her weapon was far too distinctive — she could not afford to reveal it carelessly.
Her mind raced. Xiao Nanhui fixed her gaze on the bow.
She leaped to the bow, snatched the iron pole from the boatman’s hands, poured all ten parts of her strength through her core, spun her body, and drove the pole into the rapidly approaching sheet of ice. It shattered on impact, breaking into small chips that vanished into the turbid water.
After that first decisive strike she did not pause. One hand gripped the far end of the pole, the other gripped it three feet up — channeling her qi into fluid, controlled movement. The heavy, clumsy iron pole transformed in an instant into something swift and supple as a serpent, plunging into the water again and again to shatter the drifting ice.
All of this had taken no more than the span of a single blink. Most of the passengers had not yet had a chance to process what was happening. But Ding Weixiang had seen every detail with perfect clarity, and a flicker of astonishment crossed his face. Bolao was no longer where she had been sitting — light on her feet, she had flipped herself up onto the top of the cabin with a single roll, narrowed her eyes and looked ahead, only to see a continued surge of large ice chunks bearing down, with no sign of the far shore.
“Boatman — how long before we reach the bank?”
The boatman was straining to keep hold of the mooring rope, fighting to steady the vessel: “At the very least, half a quarter-hour!”
From her end, Xiao Nanhui shouted back at Bolao: “Go take hold of Jixiang and Huaqiu — don’t let them tip the boat!”
Jixiang was a warhorse, and no matter how dire the situation, remained relatively composed. Huaqiu, however, was in a mild panic, hooves scrabbling helplessly on the deck. Bolao grabbed both reins and corralled the two horses into a fixed position, ensuring neither would fall.
The ferry continued to press forward through the churning current with great difficulty. She was just barely holding the vessel’s balance through her own efforts alone, but stray chunks of ice kept slipping through and slamming against the hull. Some passengers had already curled themselves into tight balls, eyes shut, waiting for the end.
Bolao shot a fierce look at Ding Weixiang, who was sitting there as though none of this had anything to do with him. Other than her and Xiao Nanhui, this man had to have the highest level of martial skill on the boat.
“What use are you just standing guard over him?! If the boat sinks, we all go down together!”
Ding Weixiang glanced at Zhongli Jing. Zhongli Jing’s gaze had come to rest on the family huddled together in a frightened clump nearby. After a moment, he gave a small, quiet nod.
Only then did Ding Weixiang rise. He swept past an indignant Bolao in a flash and vaulted to the stern deck. Sitting on the deck was a woven hemp basket containing fist-sized stone ballast — the anchor stones used to moor the boat at dock.
He drew his sword and struck the rope. The hemp snapped and the stones scattered. He spread five fingers wide and scooped up three stones in one hand, flicked his wrist, and sent them flying toward the drifting ice — fast and accurate, their speed in no way inferior to the iron pole in Xiao Nanhui’s hands.
She heard the sound and looked back, letting her gaze rest briefly on his wrist before returning her full attention to the ice in the river.
With another hand working alongside her, the crisis was at last brought under control. The boat gradually steadied. A moment later, the surge of drifting ice seemed to have passed entirely — only scattered fragments remained in the water, no longer a real threat.
After that harrowing ordeal, no one on board was in the mood for conversation. They continued in silence all the way to the far shore.
When they disembarked, most of the passengers had cold river water soaking their clothes, and a biting wind made them shiver — whether from the cold or from the lingering shock of a brush with death. Zhongli Jing, however, was not touched by so much as a single drop. Whatever his fur coat was made of, it had repelled the water completely.
Xiao Nanhui led Jixiang off the boat, with Hao Bai trailing behind her, chattering his teeth. She gave a brief bow in his direction, and his expression was sincere: “Today I owe my life to Brother Yao’s intervention — I ought to offer a proper word of thanks. But I do have an urgent matter pressing on me that I cannot delay. If fate wills it, we shall meet again at the Zhuming Festival in a few days.”
As he spoke, he reached inside his layered garments and produced a tattered oil-paper packet. He unwrapped it to reveal a small white pill. Her eyes, however, paused on the oil paper — it looked oddly familiar, rather like the oil paper she had seen being used to wrap steamed buns at the inn the previous night.
“This is a pill to replenish one’s energy and blood — please accept it as a token of my gratitude. I ask Brother Yao not to refuse.”
And without waiting for Xiao Nanhui’s reaction, he pressed the pill into her palm and immediately strode off in a hurry.
She looked down at the small white pill sitting in her hand with a mixture of amusement and puzzlement. After a moment’s consideration, she pocketed it.
She had barely finished putting herself back in order when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Ding Weixiang walking past. He paused beside her and spoke in a low voice: “Was it you who knocked on our window with a pebble early this morning?”
Ding Weixiang knew she had noticed his stone-throwing technique on the boat. He neither confirmed nor denied it — as though he simply could not be bothered to answer.
She pressed further: “Why?”
Only then did Ding Weixiang turn and look back at her. He pointed toward Zhongli Jing, who was standing some distance away, tall and still: “The master says — it takes a hundred lifetimes of shared fate to cross a river in the same boat. The young sir ought to treasure this bond. As for any words of thanks, they are unnecessary.”
With that, he said nothing more, and walked away quickly, leaving Xiao Nanhui standing there alone, in a daze.
A hundred lifetimes of shared fate to cross a river in the same boat? What absolute nonsense!
If you don’t want to say, then don’t — just you wait and see!