When the faint light of dawn began to brighten, Ning Yi walked out of the tent and sat down on the hillside, surrounded by the noise of quarreling voices.
As far as the eye could see, the entire mountain and valley were filled with crowds of refugees, all manner of clothing and dress, bundles large and small, horses, mules, even oxen. Carriages could no longer travel on these mountain paths, so there were none to be seen. Some people were fetching water by the stream in the grey light of early dawn, others ate cold water with dry rations, and some carried large and small packs on their backs, afraid of being left behind when the group set off again—at such times they would gather in crowds and hurry forward, most of them the old, the weak, women and children, their clothes ragged, a pitiful sight.
Since the fall of Hangzhou and the beginning of the flight, the scenes of panic and desolation had by now taken on a certain numbness. In three days’ time, this largest of the fleeing columns had already passed through several turns and changes of direction, and at this point no one knew where they were headed—not even the leaders of the group themselves knew.
From the moment the city fell, Prefect Lu Tuizhi and others had already fled by boat. Qian Xiwen and the others, who had originally declared they would not flee by boat, had in the end, protected by their families, also boarded ships and fled out through the mouth of the Qiantang River. The sea-going dock south of Hangzhou had already been disrupted once by Wang Yin and his men causing trouble, and amid the chaos of the city’s fall, countless residents had rushed there after being incited. Of course there were always some boats that managed to get away, but Ning Yi had not managed to squeeze into that crowd. Following the original plan, he had broken out through the north of the city together with the wealthy merchants and gentry who had banded together, and along the way had joined up with scattered soldiers and countless Hangzhou residents, fleeing northward.
Along the way, this originally utterly disorganized fleeing column had gone through various splits and regroupings—sometimes one or two groups would break off in different directions, sometimes they would encounter other scattered refugees fleeing in disorder. After gradually forming a leadership group, yesterday morning they had encountered a band of Fang La’s rebel troops, and the two sides had clashed, but the enemy had not come specifically in pursuit, and their numbers were not great; in the end both sides chose to break off the fight and ran off in different directions.
At this time there were probably countless different columns within this general area, all fleeing in different directions from that fallen city. This particular column contained many wealthy merchants, gentry, and prominent families, all of whom carried with them enormous wealth—silver notes, deeds, gold, silver, and valuables. Even though some had already been discarded along the road, the amount still on hand was considerable.
These people did not dare break away from the group and fall into the hands of Fang La’s rebels. It was already common knowledge throughout the Su-Hang region that wherever Fang La’s army took a city, the households of landlords, gentry, and officials were almost invariably slaughtered to the last person—men tortured and killed, women raped and violated, the misery beyond words. And even those with no fixed property did not dare leave the group under these conditions, where all order in the outside world had completely collapsed. Although Fang La’s slogan was “the law treats all equally, with no high or low,” anyone without protection who found themselves alone under such circumstances had no guarantee they would not be slaughtered like pigs and sheep by the rebel soldiers.
In that first chaotic flight, although the leading figures of Hangzhou like Lu Tuizhi and Qian Xiwen had escaped by boat, most of the sons and daughters of the great clans had not enjoyed such good fortune. Now, within this column, there were quite a few young members of the Qian, Mu, Tang, and Chang families—even Tang Xiuxuan, head of the Tang family, was among the group. As for Qian Haiping of the Qian family, he had been busy dealing with matters concerning Fang Qifo, Wang Yin, Shi Bao, and others, and so had missed the sea voyage. He had once been in charge of the constables and yamen runners in the Hangzhou prefecture and had dealt with the military as well, so he was acquainted with most of the officers among the scattered troops of the Wude Camp. Yesterday, when they began considering where to go next, he had invited Ning Yi and his wife over to discuss it.
At this moment, day was just breaking. Ning Yi sat there looking down the slope for a while. Not far off, two groups of people, apparently over some minor dispute or friction, had begun arguing and fighting. The people around them watched blankly. In ordinary times, if such a thing had happened in the streets, there would certainly have been countless onlookers watching with great interest, but now no one even had the heart for gossip. From the small tent nearby, Juan’er emerged with her hair tousled, carrying two small wooden buckets. She glanced at Ning Yi and seemed slightly startled, then lowered her head and hurried off toward the distant stream.
This girl—I only pressed on her chest once, and she’s still scared of that? Your young mistress, I don’t even know how many times I’ve pressed on her…
Ning Yi sat there grumbling silently to himself for a moment, then, realizing that this train of thought made him sound rather like some dissolute young master forever toying with a maidservant, couldn’t help but laugh a little. There were already quite a few people fetching water at the stream. When Juan’er arrived, she saw that upstream some people were shoving and cursing at each other—it turned out some young men had been washing their feet in the water, or had simply jumped straight in, which had sparked an argument. These young men seemed to have some kind of backing, and being in a foul mood at the moment, refused to back down, so the situation quickly grew heated. Juan’er looked at the scene below for a moment, then carried her buckets around and upstream.
Just as the argument there was about to turn into a real fight, Juan’er finally arrived a little further upstream and crouched by the water to fill her buckets. At that very moment, she heard one of the men in the noisy crowd nearby roar out: “So what if I did! What are you going to do about it! My family is—come on then! If you’ve got the guts, let’s settle this one on one! Come on… damn it! Damn it! My elder brother already died in the army fighting off Fang La’s bandits, but that doesn’t mean the rest of my family is dead too! Come on if you dare… and you can’t fetch water there either! Hey, you over there, what are you doing upstream! Get down there!”
This man apparently had some connections to the military. As he spoke he had already come charging over, flinging aside the bucket someone was holding and shoving another person to the ground. Next came Juan’er. The little maid, seeing this tall, fierce-looking man storming toward her, tried to grab her bucket and scramble to her feet to flee, but in her haste she overexerted herself, fell to the ground, and spilled an entire bucket of water. The man had already closed to within a few feet of her and reached out a hand, pointing: “You—” Before he could finish speaking, his entire body suddenly flew into the air.
With a splash, a great spray of water erupted from the stream—the one who had sent him flying into the water was a scholar who had just walked up, someone who looked even shorter in stature than the man himself. He had simply walked over, twisted the man’s outstretched left arm behind his back, pressed the other hand against the back of his head, and shoved him forward, driving his head straight down into the stream.
To onlookers, it was a movement of the utmost simplicity and efficiency, but to Juan’er’s eyes, of course, this was naturally her own young master, Ning Yi. To everyone else he appeared to be nothing more than a somewhat frail-looking scholar caught up in the flight from the city, but with one hand he gripped the man’s left wrist, twisting the arm back behind him, while the other hand pinned the man’s head down, submerging his entire upper body in the stream. The man thrashed desperately in the water, but no matter what he did, he could not move.
Among the crowd, the man’s companions had by now come to their senses and were rushing over. At the same time, a small squad of soldiers, who had been watching blankly nearby, also came charging up, shouting: “What are you doing! What are you doing!” They ended up helping Ning Yi’s side, holding back the group of men. The officer leading them recognized Ning Yi; after having his men hold the others back, he turned and, cupping his hands in salute, addressed him: “Master Ning.”
This man held some minor position in the army—not high, but it was because of it that he had been present the day before at the meeting Ning Yi and his wife had attended to discuss matters. He had originally assumed Ning Yi was simply a scholar, nothing more, but now he watched as Ning Yi held the man’s head under the water without so much as blinking. The man’s entire head was submerged, and he struggled with all his might, his free right hand flailing about wildly, trying to grab hold of Ning Yi. Ning Yi coughed a few times, pressed his knee into the man’s back, and twisted the captured left arm sharply to the side. There was a crack—the man’s left arm had apparently broken—and his eyes suddenly flew open underwater, countless bubbles bursting from his nose and mouth as though boiling.
After holding him down like this for a while longer, Ning Yi finally hauled the man out of the water and tossed him aside. The man’s body twitched faintly; he looked as though he were nearly dead. Only then did Ning Yi turn to greet the officer: “Officer Liu, forgive my rudeness.”
The officer was momentarily taken aback. “How does Master Ning happen to know my name?” His rank had not been high enough to actually take part in that meeting—he had merely stood off to the side as an attendant before leaving—so he had not expected the other man to know who he was.
Ning Yi only smiled and did not answer. In truth, he had simply overheard the clue in passing the night before, while everyone was talking in the tent; he had paid it no particular mind at the time, but it was no great effort to remember it and leave an impression now. After a few polite pleasantries, Ning Yi said, “In times of flight like these, everyone has it hard. If we can all pull together, that’s better than everyone falling into discord and panic. When something like this happens, if it can be managed, it’s better to manage it.”
Having said this, the officer immediately expressed his gratitude for the advice, though Ning Yi didn’t particularly care whether the man was truly convinced or merely putting on a show. He held no official position here, so words alone were enough. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with the soldiers, Ning Yi bent down and picked up one of the small wooden buckets, filling it with water. He had originally intended to carry both buckets back himself, but Juan’er, holding fast to her duties as a maidservant, absolutely refused to hand over the other bucket no matter what, only pursing her lips and shaking her head.
The two of them carried the buckets back together. Ning Yi glanced at Juan’er and smiled. “When other people flee for their lives, they bring gold and silver, or something to eat. But you girls—so many things you didn’t bring, and instead you brought two buckets and a basin. Whose idea was that…”
“We brought food too…” Juan’er answered from behind him, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum.
“Is washing up really that important?”
“It’s for the young mistress…” Juan’er answered back as though it were only natural, still very quietly. “How could we let the young mistress wash up in front of other people…”
“You could’ve used a piece of cloth, rigged up a curtain, anything would’ve worked—and besides, I don’t think your young mistress is so delicate that she needs to be so particular about such things at a time like this.”
“We forgot when we were running. There happened to be two small buckets nearby, and they weren’t heavy, so we brought the basin along too.”
“Ha…”
Ning Yi couldn’t help but laugh. Juan’er walked along behind him for a while, then asked quietly, “Young master, where are we headed next?”
“Still don’t know. Maybe Huzhou.”
“Huh? Isn’t it Jiaxing?”
“Who told you that.” Ning Yi gave a faint, wry smile. “Of course, nothing’s certain yet. It could be Jiaxing, but the area along the canal is the wealthiest, and now that Fang La has taken Hangzhou, his next move might well be to seize Jiaxing… Right now, though, neither Huzhou nor Jiaxing is safe. The bandits along the road have probably all joined in on the rebellion for the excitement—wherever we go, we’ll have to zigzag around them. And this group of ours now… so many wealthy people…”
“Young master is worried Fang La might send men after us, isn’t he?”
“He probably will.” Ning Yi paused. “But Hangzhou’s wealth is famous throughout the realm. Even though it was struck by an earthquake this time, most of the money, goods, and grain weren’t carried off. Now that they’ve taken the city, between killing people to settle scores and squeezing out the wealth, that should keep them busy for a while. Those who couldn’t get any spoils there might well turn envious of what’s on this side—Fang La’s men, or bandits along the road. This road won’t be an easy one, but there’s nothing to do now but keep walking it. If we can reach Huzhou soon enough, everything will be fine.”
Having said this, Ning Yi turned and smiled at Juan’er. Though the content of what he’d said was hardly reassuring, there was nothing hopeless in his tone. After a while, they were nearly back at the tents on the hillside. Ning Yi coughed once, and Juan’er said, “Young master, have you caught a cold?”
“Hm?”
“The young mistress seems to have caught a cold too. Yesterday… ah, young master, look, the young mistress…”
As Juan’er spoke, she pointed off to one side. Ning Yi looked over and saw that, not far from the tent where he and Su Tan’er were staying, under a tree, his wife stood leaning against the trunk, looking somewhat unwell, with Xiao Chan standing beside her, patting her back. By the time Ning Yi and Juan’er walked over, Su Tan’er seemed to have recovered, and she gave him a faint smile.
“It must be that the road hasn’t agreed with me, eating cold food and all—it’s upset my stomach. Daughters of wealthy families are like this, they can’t weather hardship… I’ve worried my husband…”
Ning Yi looked at her for a long moment, then suddenly laughed. “I’ll go find a physician.”
He handed the small wooden bucket to Xiao Chan and turned to head down the slope. After a few steps, the wind blew past him, and the scene before his eyes suddenly wavered; he felt a wave of dizziness, and stood there for a good while, holding his forehead, before he recovered. When he reached out and touched the bandaged wound on his right arm, a sharp jolt of pain shot back from it.
“Husband, what’s wrong?” Su Tan’er and the others hurried over anxiously. Ning Yi turned back and waved a hand. “It’s nothing. I’ll go find a physician right away.”
He touched his right arm again, and in his heart he had already begun to form a certain suspicion. Before long, the physician arrived, and after taking Su Tan’er’s pulse, confirmed that she was pregnant. Receiving this news in the midst of their flight left everyone’s feelings deeply mixed; for a good while they all simply stood there stunned, before hesitant smiles broke out. Ning Yi, though, laughed with open relief. Su Tan’er held his hand, pressing her lips together in a smile, tears falling that she could not stop no matter what.
Then the physician turned to examine Ning Yi’s wound anew, and the result left nearly everyone feeling as though they had plunged into an abyss. Only Ning Yi had already had some faint suspicion beforehand. Over the past several days, he had been showing mild symptoms of a cold, which had grown somewhat more severe by yesterday and today—coughing, a slight fever in his head, a faint weakness. It was possible that his practice of inner cultivation techniques had delayed the onset of these symptoms, but today it was clear: the wound had already begun to fester faintly. In this era, this was called “outside evil entering the body.” In later ages, it would be called a wound infection.