“He dares!” Chunyu Meng exclaimed indignantly, his eyebrows flying, but Feng Zhiwei remained silent. Why would he not dare? When things concerned power and money, there would always be people willing to test the reach of law; if Shen Xuru’s power was already dependent on the Chang Family and his future climb tied together with the Chang Family’s fate, then for his own ambition and wellbeing, it was not unlikely that he would choose to quietly assassinate Ning Yi, Feng Zhiwei, and Chunyu Meng. If anything happened, he only needed to find a scapegoat before moving somewhere else and continuing with his life.
Or else how could no one have come to investigate already? The post house was not remote, and the whole thing was a blazing signal in the night.
“Then what do we do?”
“Head to Mount Ji Yang and find the Ji Yang Magistrate. Magistrate Peng was Great Scholar Hu’s student and is a righteous man, an honest and upright official. He would never be party to Shen Xuru’s scheme.” Ning Yi replied, closing his eyes. “We cannot leak our identities before we reach him.”
Feng Zhiwei nodded; to think that a powerful man like Ning Yi would know the reputation and background of a remote county’s magistrate, and it was probable that he knew the complicated relations between the different officials as well. Every time he returned from his partying, he had studied alone under the midnight oil.
Everyone agreed to the plan, and the three miserable figures helped each other out into the dying flame. Tears dripped from Chunyu Meng’s eyes as he look down at his brothers-in-arms.
When they reached the metal door, he looked down at a charred body. “I told Old Guo to protect His Highness, but he pushed me in instead and led a team of brothers to defend us. They used their backs to cover the door, to hide it from the enemy...” He wiped a tear, unable to continue.
“Rest assured, revenge will be had.” Ning Yi replied, his eyes still closed, the hundreds of corpses hidden from view. In the land of smoke and fire and cooked flesh, his face was calm and emotionless, his words firm and steadfast.
Feng Zhiwei had not time to lament comrades or swear vengeance; she was too busy examining bodies, scavenging gold and silver.
Chunyu Meng watched her scamper around, unable to laugh or cry. Feng Zhiwei noticed his gaze and announced defiantly: “What are you looking at? Do you have money? Does His Highness have money? How will we travel with hidden identities if we do not have money? How will we hire coaches and buy food and medicine?”
Chunyu Meng paused before shaking his head in reply: “You look more noble than the greatest young master, but your actions are pettier than the poorest orphan.”
Ning Yi turned his head as he clung to Chunyu Meng’s back, examining Feng Zhiwei. Suddenly, words burst from his mouth: “You’re injured?”
Feng Zhiwei frowned, thinking that the fire had damaged the Prince’s brain. Had he only just seen the bruises and burns and blood covering her?
“No dawdling, we need to move.” Once they had climbed out of the destruction, they turned down a small path into the woods as Feng Zhiwei marked the trees they passed. She spoke again when they were a distance away from the ruins: “Since we are heading for Mount Ji Yang, we need to prepare food. There is a small village on the hip of this mountain where we can rest for a while. Our enemies will not expect us there and it should be safe.”
As the old adage went: the mountain may look close, but a horse will still run itself to death before reaching it. The village looked close and right before their eyes but it still took a long while before they reached it; at the darkest hour of the night, they finally reached a hunter’s house.
“Elder, we are three brothers who have been traveling. Our big brother injured his leg; Elder, if it alright, can you lend us your roof for the night?”
Mountain villagers were simple and honest, and the old man immediately smiled and opened his door: “Anyone who leaves home will face troubles; come in, come in.”
The little house was simple, but any dry dwelling was enough for the three weary travelers. All of them relaxed as the old man poured a blackish-yellow tea; Chunyu Meng gulped down his cup as Feng Zhiwei hurriedly procured a golden bean. She handed it to the old man, saying: “Our big brother is soaked, could you please find some clothes for him?”
“A poor mountain village will not have good clothes, but I can find something clean for you.” The old man replied, happily accepting the gold bean before going off to find clothes. Feng Zhiwei poured a cup of water for Ning Yi, but the Prince quietly refused the liquid, his eyes still closed.
“Is the guest afraid that the water is not clean?” The old man chuckled when he returned, some cotton clothes in hand. “This is our Ji Yang Mountain’s speciality, the Red Vine Root. It’s good for your blood and your mind, even if it looks ugly.”
Feng Zhiwei smiled and replied: “My big brother is not feeling well, I will drink it.” She put the bowl to her mouth when a thought came to her mind, and she set it down again and asked: “Elder, do you know how to get to Gua Ye Du.”
“The guests want to go to Gua Ye Du? How did you lose your way and come here?” The old man replied with some surprise. “It’s in a completely different direction.”
Feng Zhiwei relaxed, murmuring a response. Suddenly, pain crept over her and nausea attacked; in her exhaustion, her internal injury was acting up. She did not want to throw up in front of Ning Yi so she turned to the old man: “Can I trouble the Elder to arrange a resting place for us? Anywhere is fine, we just need to lie down for a bit.”
“There is an empty room, can you all share?”
Feng Zhiwei nodded and the old man went off to arrange the room. The small home they sat in was built against the mountain near a cliff, so Feng Zhiwei went outside to find a place to puke. She stumbled over to a stone and squatted behind it for a long while until she felt better, but when she pushed herself to her feet she stumbled and her eyes blurred. Stepping back, she reached out and steadied herself against the stone.
Finally, she pulled herself together and turned to head back, but just as she turned she noticed the writing on the stone; she had puked her guts out besides the village plaque.
Feng Zhiwei eyed the vine covered characters and reached forward.
Pulling away the vines, she revealed the four large characters: Hua Yan Du Village.
Beneath the name was a simple explanation: the village had three had three main family surnames: Hua, Yan, and Du, and so they called themselves the Hua Yan Du Village.
Feng Zhiwei’s eyes swept over the words and then her heart skipped a beat.
Hua Yan Du...
Hua, Yan, Du...
Gua Ye Du!
The rendezvous for Gua Ye Du must have been for Hua Yan Du!
Muffled by the wall and the man’s accent, Feng Zhiwei had misheard!
She froze. When she had taken out the golden bean, the old man had been much too calm and composed.
It would be hard for a poor villager to see much silver, how could he act so naturally in the face of gold?
A poor mountain villager would dare take gold in exchange for cotton clothes and a cup of tea?
Feng Zhiwei leapt forward, running through the cold night air. Ten meters away from the door, she stopped and composed herself, calming her breathing and smoothing her clothes. Finally, she stepped forward and knocked.