Although Yuan Cheng said he didn’t lie down or sleep because he feared he couldn’t hold onto his last breath, Mo Zi understood it was better not to waste his energy on conversation at this time. So she closed her mouth and stopped talking to him, also closing her eyes to conserve her strength.
When she stopped talking, Yuan Cheng also became quiet. His withered hands, like skeletal claws, remained rigidly bent. If not for his occasionally heavy breathing, Mo Zi would truly fear he might suddenly die in the carriage.
When they were almost at the city gate, the carriage jolted, and Mo Zi’s eyes flew open.
“Brother Mo, trouble!” Cen Er stuck his head in. “Don’t know what’s going on, but they’ve set up a checkpoint at the East Gate. There’s a queue to leave the city, and they’re checking everyone.”
Mo Zi frowned. Without saying anything, she bent down and exited the carriage, standing on top of it to look around. Indeed, as Cen Er had said, about a hundred meters away at the East Gate entrance, two checkpoints had been set up. They weren’t checking those entering the city, only those leaving.
“Looks like they’ve sealed not just the waterways, but also the land routes.” Cen Er said this while jerking his chin toward the carriage compartment. “Must be coming after that person.”
“Though they’re coming after him, they’re not sealing the land routes. If they wanted to block the small paths out of the pass, they should seal the West Gate and South Gate. The East Gate faces toward the capital of Nande Kingdom. The number of guards hasn’t increased, and they have portrait sketches in hand, just roughly comparing before letting people through—doesn’t look like they’re inspecting very carefully.” Mo Zi observed the details keenly.
“No matter how roughly they inspect, if we pass through like this, won’t they look inside the carriage? Once they look, won’t it all be over?” The person inside was currently in such a state, still wearing prison clothes bright as day.
Mo Zi naturally knew they couldn’t pass through like this. Disguise Yuan Cheng and mix him through? With his severed arm, serious injuries, and half-dead appearance, she suspected that by the time she finished fussing over him, even if he wasn’t dead, he would be. If it were someone else, she could slip them more silver and get through. However, the number one corrupt official carried too much weight and was too heavy. For the moment, she really didn’t know what to do.
“Brother Mo?” Cen Er usually had plenty of ideas, but now, because of the special identity of the person in the carriage, he was at a complete loss.
“Cen Er, drive the carriage to the East Market. Let me think about it.” Mo Zi crawled back into the carriage.
“They’ve sealed the East Gate?” Yuan Cheng had been awake the whole time, gritting his teeth to stay awake.
“Yes.” Mo Zi lifted a corner of the window curtain, watching the carriage head toward the market beside the city gate. “Seems someone is sparing no effort to catch you, sir.”
Yuan Cheng made a sound, like laughter, yet also like coughing.
“I heard that when you escaped danger this time, sir, you had help from an expert. I don’t know if it’s true or false? Now the city gates are tightly sealed. If you could request help again, sir, it wouldn’t be difficult to get through.” Mo Zi was thinking that there’s strength in numbers.
“Though I requested those people, it’s hard to say whether they’re friend or foe.” This time Yuan Cheng truly laughed, a soft sound. “I’m afraid they’re also anxiously searching everywhere for me now. Brother Mo, you’d better not count on them. If you have no confidence in leaving the city, please just send me back to Pearl Jade Records.”
Mo Zi withdrew her outward gaze and fixed her eyes on the person before her. “Sir, with your penetrating insight, you should know that Zhou Wen probably won’t welcome you back.”
“So what? As long as the property deed and shop aren’t in his name for even one day, I am still the true owner.” Yuan Cheng answered.
“If you provoke him too much, he could sell out his master for glory and still have a chance to get what he wants.” Mo Zi saw human nature as less than good. “Rest assured, sir, I will think of a solution. Though I made you sign a life-and-death agreement, that was on the boat—in a situation where if discovered, there was nowhere to escape. As for leaving the city, if I don’t even have this much ability, what private goods would I be smuggling?”
“Yuan has considered himself experienced and having met countless people, yet today I’ve just realized how poor my judgment was. That a woman could have such courage and integrity—Yuan is truly impressed.” Yuan Cheng’s voice, mixed with rough sounds, suddenly became clear.
Mo Zi was greatly startled, but she wasn’t embarrassed or annoyed. Instead, she laughed, still deliberately using a male voice. “When did you see through it, sir?” She had never insisted on concealing her female identity. If someone asked, she would admit it openly.
What’s wrong with being female? Wu Zetian was even an empress. That’s what Qiu Sanniang said.
“Yesterday, when Brother Mo came close, I smelled a fragrance. For a male’s build, you were also too delicate and refined. Moreover, only women are so meticulous in their actions, thinking what men cannot think, considering what men cannot consider.” Yuan Cheng had noticed quite a few things.
“I wasn’t deliberately concealing my identity. It’s just that traveling outside as a woman is inconvenient in many ways. I hope you’ll understand, sir.” After Mo Zi finished speaking, she looked out the window again. “In the end, I still can’t quite pull off looking like a man completely.”
“Brother Mo need not doubt your disguise. Ordinary people shouldn’t easily detect it. Since childhood, Yuan’s sense of smell has been sharper than most. Moreover, having risen to Prime Minister, I’ve seen women of all kinds—truly quite a few. The current Empress Dowager, when she was still Empress, also often dressed as a man to leave the palace, and Yuan even contributed some effort to that.” Yuan Cheng’s tone held nostalgia for the first time, though it vanished in an instant.
This Yuan Cheng seemed to have quite complicated relationships with women. But that made sense—a Prime Minister with wives and concubines filling his household wasn’t strange at all.
“No matter, I don’t mind others knowing I’m a woman—” Mo Zi’s tone suddenly stretched out, because the scene that entered her vision gave her a way to leave the city. “Sir, wait a moment. I’ll be right back.”
She called for Cen Er to stop the carriage and agilely bent down to exit.
“Yuan Cheng, oh Yuan Cheng, having enjoyed all worldly luxuries and splendor, in the end you’ve fallen to relying on a strange woman to save you. How truly laughable—” Yuan Cheng’s words reached this point, then suddenly lowered, half-laughing before giving a long sigh.
Mo Zi didn’t hear half a word of Yuan Cheng’s self-mockery. She lifted half of her blue robe, jumped down from the carriage, and walked quickly toward a desolate corner of the market.
There, kneeling, was a man in tattered clothes. Before him was stuck a jade-green long sword, and behind him a bamboo mat from beneath which protruded a human form. His hair hung loose with a grass marker stuck in it, his head bowed. On the ground was a wooden board with several characters written in flowing script—Selling himself to bury his father, fifty taels of silver.
She stopped not far from where the man knelt, just in time to hear someone who looked like a steward approach and ask him.
“What kind of work can you do?”
“What kind of work do you want me to do?” The man didn’t raise his face, staring straight at the wooden board, asking back.
“Odd jobs. Moving goods, delivering goods, driving carts—you’ll have to do everything.” The steward told him.
“Can you use my sword?” The man finally raised his head.
Ha! Sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, broad chest and strong shoulders, a clean white face with an upright look—a man in his twenties.
“What sword? My master runs a rice shop.” The steward glanced at that long sword and frowned. “We want to buy a laborer, not a guard.”
“Then I won’t do it. Please go buy someone else.” The man lowered his head and began staring blankly at the wooden board about selling himself to bury his father again.
“Hey, you think just sticking a sword there means you have superior martial arts? Looking at you, you must only know flowery fists and embroidered kicks. If your kung fu was good, how could you be so poor you can’t even bury your father? I took pity on you because I saw you’ve been kneeling for three days. Tsk, even if you kneel for three more days, no one will buy you.” The steward flicked his sleeve and left.
“Those who won’t buy me are all blind. Haven’t they heard that even a hero can be stifled by a single coin?…” The man muttered to himself.
“I’ll give you fifty taels of silver cash. You don’t need to sign a contract of servitude, just follow my instructions and help me with one matter.” Mo Zi stepped forward, all smiles—