The northwest wind howled, and the forest was shrouded in darkness.
Two men lay in the snow, having just fought a life-and-death battle.
With a groan, Lin Jinlou slowly opened his eyes. He felt moisture on his lips and a dry throat, instinctively licking them. Soon, someone lifted the back of his head and gave him water to drink. He gulped greedily, then tried to struggle upright, but a pain that pierced to the bone made him cry out. The agony sharpened his senses, and he turned his head to see Xianglan cradling his head in her arms, feeding him water from a foot warmer.
He drank a few more sips, swallowing slowly, before asking, "Lu... Lu Shaotang?"
Xianglan whispered, "Dead—"
"You—why didn't you flee? Why come here instead?"
"..."
"Go search Lu Shaotang's clothes. A soldier on the march must carry some medicine for wounds."
Xianglan bit her lip, carefully laid Lin Jinlou down, and went to search the corpse. Her hands were numb from the cold, stiff and unresponsive, so she tucked them under her arms to warm them before hastily rummaging through the clothes. Sure enough, she found a brocade pouch on his belt. Opening it, she discovered three porcelain bottles and various other items, which she quickly brought to Lin Jinlou.
Lin Jinlou ordered her to empty the contents of the bottles for him to inspect. One contained pills, another powder, and the third a salve. He sniffed the pills, placed one under his tongue, and instructed Xianglan to open his robe and apply the salve to his wounds. The application sent waves of excruciating pain through him. His face turned deathly pale as he fought back screams, his body drenched in cold sweat as if he had been pulled from water. Xianglan took out a handkerchief, wiped the sweat and blood from his face, then tore the sweat towel from Lu Shaotang's waist to bandage his wounds. Suppressing her discomfort, she also removed a headscarf from a fallen corpse to wrap around Lin Jinlou's arm.
After lying still for a while longer, Lin Jinlou struggled to rise, leaning on a tree with one hand and Xianglan with the other. After several failed attempts, Xianglan urged, "If you can't bear it, rest a little longer."
Gasping for breath, Lin Jinlou shook his head. "No. Rebel troops will likely arrive soon. Staying here is certain death." He ordered Xianglan to bring him Lu Shaotang's crossbow bolts and to fetch Lu Shaotang's horse. Gritting his teeth, he mustered all his strength to stand and clumsily climbed onto the horse, then reached out to pull Xianglan up.
Xianglan shook her head, her face full of worry.
Too weak to argue, Lin Jinlou slumped over the horse's back and pointed toward the dense forest. "That way."
Before setting off, Xianglan took a pair of fur gloves from an archer, tied the foot warmer to her belt, and draped the blanket over Lin Jinlou. Then, leading the horse, she trudged forward step by step.
Xianglan's entire body was frozen stiff. The wind cut into her face like a knife, and she could barely keep her eyes open. After a while, they finally emerged from the forest. The heavy snow covered the ground, making it impossible to discern any path ahead. Xianglan wanted to ask Lin Jinlou for direction, but found him motionless on the horse's back. Panicked, she checked his breathing and sighed in relief when she found he was still alive. She looked up at the vast, uncertain road ahead—there was no choice but to press on courageously. Faint shouts and the clamor of battle echoed from behind. Not daring to look back, Xianglan quickened her pace, urging the horse forward.After walking for an unknown length of time, the path beneath her feet gradually steepened, clearly indicating they were descending the mountain. Xianglan’s deerskin boots were ill-suited for the rugged mountain trail, and she slipped several times, tumbling to the ground. Each time, she hurriedly stood up, rubbing her sore spots with one hand while clutching the reins with the other, pressing onward.
About an hour later, or perhaps only half an hour, Xianglan felt utterly exhausted and could no longer continue. Suddenly, she glimpsed a faint glow of firelight ahead. A mix of surprise, joy, and fear surged within her. She led the horse forward a few steps but halted abruptly at the sound of shouting and killing. The noise grew louder, as if a group was besieging a convoy. In panic, the convoy fled toward Xianglan’s location.
Terrified, Xianglan looked left and right. Only a cluster of green pines and cypresses beside jagged rocks offered a hiding spot. But the horse was too large to conceal quickly. In desperation, she pulled Lin Jinlou down, pressing him beneath her. She scrambled up and saw that he had landed on his back, avoiding pressure on the chest wound, which relieved her. Dragging and tugging, she hauled him behind the rocks, panting heavily. Just as she turned to retrieve the horse, she saw it had already turned and galloped away.
There was no time to dwell on it. Xianglan first checked on Lin Jinlou, who remained unconscious. Peeking cautiously from behind the rock, she heard the clamor and screams intensify. The convoy emitted shrill, fearful cries, clearly indicating the presence of women. As the sounds drew nearer, several carriages charged forward, engulfed in flames—likely struck by fire arrows. Elderly, weak, women, and children scrambled out, fleeing in all directions. By the firelight, their luxurious fur and silk garments marked them as wealthy. The attackers swarmed in, brandishing blades, while servants in household uniforms fought back desperately. A sudden, agonized cry pierced the air as a man in a fox-fur coat was decapitated. The head rolled toward her, revealing Zhao Gang’s face! Overwhelmed with horror, Xianglan snatched the crossbow bolt from Lin Jinlou’s waist, trembling uncontrollably.
The sounds of battle gradually subsided. Hidden among the rocks and cypresses, Xianglan watched helplessly as the assailants slaughtered the convoy. The fight was brutal, and the pursuers suffered heavy losses, leaving only four men standing, one of whom was severely wounded, groaning in a pool of blood. They dragged several heavy chests from the burning carriages and pried them open. Inside gleamed gold, silver, jewels, and ancient paintings—treasures that elicited cheers from the men.
Suddenly, one of them dragged a woman from nearby, shouting excitedly.
The others rushed over.
The woman screamed and struggled, kicking and biting, but they subdued her, lifting her up and carrying her away. Their lewd glances and mocking laughter oozed malice.
The woman thrashed her head wildly, shrieking, “Beasts! Beasts! Let me go! Let me go!” Her voice struck Xianglan as eerily familiar.
In an instant, Xianglan recognized her—it was Zhao Yuechan!
Stunned, Xianglan stood up involuntarily. She saw the three men pin Zhao Yuechan to the ground. Xianglan shrank back, closing her eyes, unable to watch. Soon, Zhao Yuechan’s weeping and the men’s vulgar laughter echoed around her.
Xianglan covered her ears with her hands, slumping against the rock in a daze. Why was Zhao Yuechan here? And hadn’t her brother Zhao Gang just been killed? Did that mean these carriages were carrying the Zhao family?Zhao Yuechan wept and struggled, and Xianglan felt as if something were wrenching at her heart. In the past, Zhao Yuechan had harbored the most venomous intentions toward her, and Xianglan had once hated her to the bone. But as time passed, that hatred gradually faded, turning into disgust. Now that this person was suffering retribution, she should have felt a sense of vindication. Yet, as she listened to Zhao Yuechan's miserable wails, she was startled to realize she felt no satisfaction. Instead, an indescribable sorrow welled up within her, mingled with sympathy, pity, and fear. At this moment, she only felt that Zhao Yuechan was pitiful.
After an unknown length of time, the sounds gradually quieted. Xianglan mustered her courage and peered outside again. She saw the three men holding torches, gathered around several chests, lifting them one by one onto the only carriage that had not been burned. When they were halfway through loading, the severely injured man groaned on the ground and shouted a few words. A tall, lean man then gestured and spoke, seemingly urging the others to carry the injured man onto the carriage as well. However, the carriage was too small; if they loaded him, there would be no room for the chests. The other three men shook their heads in refusal.
The tall, lean man was visibly displeased and shouted loudly. The group began to argue, but as they were some distance away, Xianglan could not make out their words. Suddenly, one of the men exchanged a glance with another, who nodded slightly and abruptly drew a weapon from his waist. With a "thud," he stabbed the severely injured man in the chest. The man's legs twitched, his head lolled to the side, and he died.
The tall, lean man let out a loud, mournful cry, raised the knife in his hand, and swung it back, cutting off the assailant's hand. The man screamed in agony as his hand fell to the ground, and the two immediately grappled with each other. The remaining man stood by, watching indifferently. The tall, lean man clearly had some martial skills; after a few exchanges, he managed to kill his opponent with a single slash. He then turned and coldly stared at the other man.
That man actually laughed and said something. After a long silence, the tall, lean man seemed persuaded. Together, they loaded the remaining two chests onto the carriage. But just as the man bent down to drag Zhao Yuechan, the tall, lean man suddenly grabbed his head and stabbed him several times in the chest with a dagger. The man groaned and collapsed, and the tall, lean man stabbed him a few more times until he stopped moving.
Gasping for breath, the tall, lean man slumped to the ground. Xianglan felt her heart racing with fear. In just moments, he had eliminated the others, and now he intended to claim all the stolen treasures and valuables for himself.
At that moment, Lin Jinlou suddenly began to cough violently, blood spurting from his mouth and nose. The sound was as startling as a thunderclap, startling Xianglan into a cold sweat. She wiped the blood from Lin Jinlou's mouth with her sleeve and whispered urgently in his ear, "Master, keep quiet—there are bandits outside—"
Lin Jinlou, his eyes half-closed, continued to cough uncontrollably. He grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth, mixing it with dirt and mud in an attempt to muffle the sound, while curling his left leg. Xianglan, frantic with worry, snatched up the crossbow bolt and gripped it tightly in her hand.
The tall, lean man had clearly heard the commotion and began to follow the sound. The closer he got, the more he could see the chaotic traces on the snowy ground, and he tightened his grip on the single-edged sword in his hand.Xianglan hid behind the rock, her heart pounding like a drum. Her hand rested on the crossbow bolt trigger, but her fingers had long gone numb from the cold. Suddenly, a figure darted into view. In her panic, Xianglan tried to press the crossbow bolt trigger, yet her frostbitten fingers failed to respond.
The tall, lean man seemed momentarily stunned. He glanced at Lin Jinlou, who was covered in blood, then at Xianglan, before suddenly bursting into laughter. Looking down at them with contempt, he sneered, "Well, well. What a fortunate coincidence today." As he spoke, he seized Xianglan.
(Second update; Follow Xiao He on Weibo by searching 'He Yan Shan' on Sina Weibo for update notifications.)
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