Old Qiao rowed the boat out, glanced at Huang Qi at the stern, then at Zhu Qing before him, and said irritably:

“Dressed like proper people, how can your eyes be so blind?”

Young Lord Pei flared up and snapped open his fan with a “crack.” “Old man, who are you calling blind?”

“You all!”

Old Qiao jerked his chin toward the shore. “Couldn’t you see I’m a good person and that little beggar is no good?”

Huh?

Young Lord Pei’s hand holding the fan paused. “What’s wrong with the little beggar?”

“He’s swindling you!”

All six people’s hearts jumped at once.

Yan Sanhe reached out and grabbed Pei Xiao’s arm, signaling him not to speak and letting her ask. “Old Qiao, how did the little beggar swindle us?”

“One tael of silver per day!”

Old Qiao gave Yan Sanhe a dry chuckle and looked up at the opposite shore. “At the earliest five days, at the latest ten days to half a month—don’t expect to come down from that mountain. Broke now, aren’t you!”

“Why?”

Old Qiao chuckled again. “Our Hejian Prefecture’s famous Old Master Tang—do you think he’s someone you can just meet if you want to? He refuses to see anyone!”

“If he refuses to see anyone, he should just turn them away.”

Yan Sanhe heard the contradiction in these words. “Why would people still be delayed on the mountain so long?”

Old Qiao chuckled several times. “That’s because Old Master Tang has a saying: ‘Meeting is fate, not meeting is duty.'”

“What does that mean?” Young Lord Pei was puzzled.

Old Qiao rolled his eyes at Young Lord Pei and ignored him.

Damn, who are you rolling your eyes at!

Young Lord Pei was enraged and about to argue when another arm suddenly appeared on his, patting him twice.

First a grab, now a pat…

Young Lord Pei almost laughed aloud.

Yan Sanhe withdrew her hand and smiled slightly. “Old Qiao, listen to my guess and see if I’m right.”

How rare!

Old Qiao thought to himself that he’d been ferrying people across this river his whole life, and it was always passengers crying and begging him to explain clearly.

“Little miss, then you guess.”

Yan Sanhe: “Duty means not meeting, and not meeting means directly sending people back home, correct?”

Old Qiao nodded.

Yan Sanhe: “The mountain isn’t high—climbing up takes at most an hour. So going up and back is just half a day, yet you said it takes at least five days? Clearly there’s something fishy here.”

Old Qiao’s cloudy eyes showed some brightness.

“What’s fishy?”

Yan Sanhe looked at the shimmering water surface and answered her own question. “The fishiness lies in these four words: ‘Meeting is fate.'”

Old Qiao said nothing. Xie Zhifei couldn’t help himself. “Why?”

“I’m guessing…”

Yan Sanhe: “This Old Master Tang must have set some difficult problem to test visitors. The problem is extremely difficult and takes time to solve. Once solved, the fate naturally arrives. Old Qiao, am I right?”

Old Qiao’s mouth hung open, unable to speak for a long time.

“Looks like I guessed correctly.”

Yan Sanhe looked toward Xie Zhifei. “One tael per day, five days is five taels, half a month is fifteen taels. No wonder the little beggar said this business should continue long-term—it’s all profit!”

Old Qiao came to his senses and, unwilling to concede, asked again, “Little miss, guess what the difficult problem is?”

“Won’t guess!”

Yan Sanhe flatly refused. “When soldiers come, we’ll block them; when water comes, we’ll dam it. We’re determined to obtain this fate!”

As soon as the words fell, Zhu Qing and the others, who had been listless, suddenly felt immense confidence and courage surge in their hearts: That’s right, with Miss Yan here, we’re not even afraid of the dead, let alone the living!

Li Buyan even burst into song—

“West Lake’s beautiful scenery, in the third month of spring, ah,

Spring rain like wine, willows like mist, ah;

With fate, lovers meet from a thousand miles away,

Without fate, they can’t clasp hands face to face;

Ten years of cultivation to share one boat ride,

A hundred years to share one pillow;

If there’s fortune for a thousand years, ah,

White-haired devotion is right before our eyes.

La la la la la… la la la la la…”

Everyone except Yan Sanhe was shocked by this singing.

Huang Qi: “…” That’s quite nice.

Zhu Qing: “…” And quite fitting.

Young Lord Pei: “…” What’s happening—this song seems to reach into my heart.

Xie Zhifei: “…” Don’t tell me her mother taught her this too?

Old Qiao: “…” This whole boatload of passengers—not one is ordinary!

…

Not long after disembarking, all that boldness and confidence sank like the bubbles on the water’s surface after the boat had passed.

Three mountain paths appeared before them:

One was flat and wide—clearly well-traveled;

One was a wild path just a few inches wide. Looking up, they could see nothing;

The last one had abnormally dense trees. Walking in a few steps, they felt waves of chilling coldness—somewhat eerie and terrifying.

Young Lord Pei cursed in his heart. “So the damn difficult problem starts right here?”

Xie Zhifei: “So, which one do we choose?”

Li Buyan stepped back. “Don’t ask me. I don’t have that kind of brain.”

Zhu Qing retreated. “I only know how to fight and kill.”

Huang Qi scratched his head. “My parents are both illiterate.”

Everyone turned their heads in unison and looked at Yan Sanhe in unison.

Yan Sanhe: “I don’t know either.”

Young Lord Pei’s eyes widened. He closed his fan and cupped his fists to everyone. “This humble one takes his leave.”

After walking a few steps, he turned back, walked up to Yan Sanhe, and smiled with a shameless expression.

“It’s fine. I have confidence in you. Think again, think carefully.”

Seeing everyone glaring at him, Young Lord Pei’s smile vanished.

“What are you looking at? Don’t you understand relieving tension?”

Everyone: “…”

Yan Sanhe and Li Buyan exchanged a “this person is terminally ill” look, then fell into deep thought.

After a long while, she looked up and asked, “If we had to find one descriptive term for each of these three roads…”

“That’s too easy.”

Young Lord Pei answered immediately. “Main road, small road, ghost road.”

Everyone: “…” Have to say, quite accurate.

“Old Master Tang is Tang Qiling’s student and also a recluse. In setting out these three roads, he probably has intentions. The main road means smooth going, the small road means hardship, and the ghost road…”

Yan Sanhe thought to herself that no one in this world understood better than she what the ghost road meant.

“Means the path leading to death.”

As the words fell, everyone’s expressions changed.

Huang Qi was so frightened he was first to take a stand. “Then, then let’s choose the main road. Look how many footprints are on it.”

Zhu Qing frowned and shook his head. “Many people also fail to see Old Master Tang.”

Li Buyan craned her neck to look at the small road. “How about the small road? It’s harder, but better than losing our lives. What do Young Lord Pei and Third Master think?”

Young Lord Pei’s face was pale, too busy to speak.

He was enthusiastically cursing Old Master Tang’s ancestors eight generations back in his mind!

Xie Zhifei took a deep breath. For the first time, he found the troublemaker’s words quite pleasant to hear. “I also choose the small road.”

Yan Sanhe: “Why?”

Xie Zhifei countered, “Old Master Tang is a scholar. Don’t scholars all advocate the doctrine of the mean?”

Yan Sanhe: “I disagree.”

Xie Zhifei: “… Why?”

“Ghosts aren’t scary—people are scary. Human hearts are far more terrifying than ghosts. So I choose the ghost road.”

Yan Sanhe raised her head and met Xie Zhifei’s eyes, saying softly:

“Put oneself in a place of death and survive!”