Chapter 18 Departure
As the sun began to set, Ninth Master Zhao walked in.
He wore a faded indigo short coat with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a cloth belt tied around his waist, looking both efficient and capable. "Are you ready? We're leaving!"
Fu Tingyun had been agonizing over this matter all afternoon. At his words, hesitation flickered across her face.
Ninth Master Zhao pressed his lips together before speaking after a long pause. "These two matters don’t conflict—you can stay in Weinan first. Once your parents learn you’re alive, they’ll surely come for you. Then you can ask them anything directly and have someone to discuss your future with. Besides, your health is still weak. It’s not good for you to endure the hardships of travel. Staying with your uncle and aunt will help you recover faster."
Most importantly, Ninth Master Zhao was a stranger to her. Not only had he saved her life, but he had also helped her so much despite his own difficult circumstances. He had already gone above and beyond, and she couldn’t burden him any further.
With this in mind, Fu Tingyun mustered her resolve and nodded, picking up the bundle by her pillow. "Then let’s go."
Ninth Master Zhao remained still, giving her a strange look. "You should change your outfit first."
Fu Tingyun was taken aback and glanced down at her clothes.
A pale blue cotton blouse, a plain indigo sixteen-panel horse-face skirt, tied with an indigo sash—no jewelry, clean and neat. There was nothing inappropriate about it!
She looked at him in confusion.
Her skin was like jade, her hair as dark as ink, her soft red lips as vibrant as summer pomegranate blossoms, radiant and lovely as the bright days of May. Yet her almond-shaped eyes were as clear as mountain spring water, utterly unaware of her own beauty. Her allure carried an air of refined elegance, making her even more captivating.
Ninth Master Zhao sighed inwardly. "First, find a scarf to cover your head, then change into darker clothes." Noticing her hands holding the bundle—pale and smooth as mutton-fat jade—he added, "Wrap your hands with the sash too!"
When visiting relatives, Fu Tingyun had glimpsed the outcasts through the green gauze curtains of her carriage. They wore dark clothes, covered their heads, wore straw sandals or went barefoot, their hair and faces covered in dust, looking filthy.
"Are you asking me to disguise myself as an outcast?" she asked hesitantly. "The authorities are never kind to them..."
Doing so would increase their chances of being searched.
"Right now, the roads are swarming with Migrant Bandits. Uprisings have broken out in Anhua, Heshui, Longxi, and Anding. The constables wouldn’t dare conduct searches!" Ninth Master Zhao explained patiently. "The more well-dressed you are, the more likely you’ll be robbed. Once someone is targeted, those desperate with hunger will flock like vultures. I might not be able to protect you against so many. The way you look now is too conspicuous."
Fu Tingyun’s cheeks flushed slightly.
How utterly useless she was—even traveling would be a burden to him.
She nodded quickly.
Ninth Master Zhao stepped outside.
Following his instructions, Fu Tingyun changed her clothes and inspected herself carefully, ensuring no flaws remained before calling out, "Ninth Master."
Ninth Master Zhao walked back in, followed by A Sen, dressed similarly to him.
When A Sen saw Fu Tingyun, his eyes widened.
The deep indigo coarse cloth only made her jade-like complexion glow even brighter.Ninth Master Zhao coughed lightly with some helplessness and instructed Fu Tingyun, "Don't look around when the time comes. Keep your head down as much as possible. If anyone speaks to you, don't respond—I'll handle everything. It's best if no one sees your face."
A Sen, startled awake by the cough, hurriedly gathered the cool bamboo mat, porcelain pillow, drinking cup, and eating utensils Fu Tingyun had used before exiting the room.
A bitter feeling welled up in Fu Tingyun's heart.
Was he afraid she might be recognized?
Who would have thought that Fu Tingyun would one day have to hide her face and conceal her identity? It truly showed that one should never be too absolute in words or deeds.
She lowered her head and replied with a muffled "Okay," her voice tinged with dejection.
Ninth Master Zhao neither knew nor cared why she was upset—his only task was to safely deliver this woman to her uncle's home in Weinan. Once that was done, he would leave Shaanxi. After that, they would be worlds apart, never to meet again.
He turned and walked out.
Fu Tingyun composed herself and followed.
Outside the dilapidated temple stood a grove of trees. Unlike the lush greenery of Azure Cloud Temple, the branches here hung limp as if scorched dry, draped in layers of grayish dust, appearing utterly dispirited.
A Sen was loading the items she had used onto a single-wheeled cart parked in front of the temple.
The evening sky blazed with crimson clouds, casting a rosy glow on their faces and the grove, adding to the desolate atmosphere.
"Let's go!" Ninth Master Zhao's voice was tense and melancholy. "This is no place to linger. Once they finish the chaff and wild vegetables, they'll start gnawing on roots and tree bark."
Fu Tingyun was horrified. "No... surely not?"
"Why not?" A Sen chimed in as he approached. "I've even seen people eating dirt!" He had already secured all the belongings. "Master, can we leave now?" he muttered. "This whole grove has only the three of us—it gives me the creeps. If those Migrant Bandits show up, we'll be in trouble."
Ninth Master Zhao said nothing. He walked over, slung the cart's carrying strap around his neck, and said to Fu Tingyun, "Get on."
"What?" Fu Tingyun's eyes widened.
This single-wheeled cart was commonly used in rural areas—just a wooden frame propelled by the person pushing the front wheel, relying entirely on human strength, unlike horses, mules, or donkeys.
She hadn't expected him to push her.
"I'd have preferred to find you a carriage," he said flatly, "but at this point, anything alive has ended up in someone's stomach. You'll have to make do."
As if she were being picky.
"That's not what I meant!" Fu Tingyun quickly explained. "I saw A Sen loading things onto the cart—I thought it was just for carrying goods!"
Hearing his name, A Sen grinned and pointed at the cart. "The stuff's all piled on the right side. The left is reserved for you to sit." He added, "I laid out a folded quilt—it won't be uncomfortable." Then he stared at her eagerly, as if urging, "Hurry up and sit—it's really comfy."
Fu Tingyun still hesitated.
She wasn't as plump as Sixth Sister, but neither was she as slender as Seventh Sister. With the right side already loaded with miscellaneous items, adding her weight might make it too heavy for him to push. And if she fell... The memory of how Ninth Master Zhao had once startled her into falling from the old locust tree, leaving her sore for days, made her apprehensive.Ninth Master Zhao, however, had little patience for her hesitation. He shot her a sidelong glance. "Do you plan to walk all the way to Weinan?"
"No..." Given how things stood and his good intentions, Fu Tingyun had no choice but to steel herself and climb onto the cart despite her worries.
"Let's go!" A Sen cheered, running ahead and taking the lead onto a dirt path beside the woods.
Ninth Master Zhao pushed the cart behind him.
The cart jolted violently, as if she might be thrown off at any moment. The wheels kicked up clouds of yellow dust that invaded her nostrils.
Fu Tingyun felt miserable, clutching her bundle tightly to her chest.
Ninth Master Zhao softly reminded her, "Hold onto the ropes tying the goods."
Fu Tingyun quickly responded with an "Oh," immediately gripping the ropes.
With something to anchor herself, she finally sat more steadily.
Once out of the woods, they reached a post road.
Smooth and wide, it was a world apart from the dirt path.
Only then did Fu Tingyun begin to feel like she was properly riding in a cart.
She surveyed the scenery around her.
Fields stretched on both sides of the road, and in the distance, she could see a few farmhouses with towering trees rising above their roofs. Though it was dusk, no cooking smoke rose from the chimneys. The fields bore no crops, only cracked yellow earth, and the nearby ditches were bone-dry. The surroundings were eerily silent, devoid of any sound, making the journey unsettling.
"How could the drought be this severe?" Fu Tingyun exclaimed. "There’ll be no harvest this year, will there?"
Though raised in the inner chambers, she had been groomed as a household manager and knew a thing or two about estate affairs. A year without harvest meant reduced income for her, but for those who relied on farming, it was a matter of life and death. She had heard of droughts in Qingyang and Gongchang, and of migrant bandits flooding Shangzhou and Tongzhou, but these were just rumors—until now. Witnessing it firsthand left her deeply shaken.
Ninth Master Zhao remained silent.
A Sen, however, whispered, "A few days ago, you could still trade a person for three bowls of flour. Now, no one wants them even for free. They just starve to death..."
This was something Fu Tingyun couldn’t even fathom.
"Why hasn’t the government opened the granaries to distribute food?" Her voice came out sharper than intended.
No one answered her. Only the rumbling of the cart wheels against the ground filled the silence.
Fu Tingyun turned to look at Ninth Master Zhao.
His expression was calm, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his emotions.
For some reason, seeing this eased her heart, and she felt a little more at peace.
Without imperial decree, local officials wouldn’t dare open the granaries.
"The governor should petition the emperor to send officials to Shaanxi to oversee the migrant bandit crisis," she said. "Otherwise, if things escalate, he won’t escape blame."
Ninth Master Zhao kept pushing the cart forward, eyes fixed ahead, as if he hadn’t heard her.
Fu Tingyun waited for his response, but when none came, she turned away in disappointment.
"The emperor is determined to be a sage ruler renowned for both civil and military achievements," his voice suddenly came from behind, flat and almost mechanical. "Since the Xiping 28th year campaign against the Hetao region, he has requisitioned tens of millions of bushels of grain. Shaanxi, as a major grain-producing region, has been taxed most heavily. Governor Dong Hanwen is a protégé of Mo Yingbo, the former Grand Secretary of the Hall of Literary Profundity and Minister of Rites. Mo Yingbo had conflicts with the current Grand Secretary Shen Shichong, so Dong has no choice but to curry the emperor’s favor to keep his post. New grain was sent north even before it could be stored. Now, with the drought, even if he wanted to open the granaries, there’s likely no grain left to distribute!"This is not something an ordinary person would know or say!
Fu Tingyun couldn't help but ask, "What does Ninth Master do?"
"I'm just a reckless wanderer roaming the rivers and lakes!" Ninth Master Zhao replied, a trace of self-mocking smile flashing at the corner of his mouth. "Just repeating what I overhear others discussing about court affairs in teahouses. Young lady should take it as idle talk and not take it to heart."
Is that so?
Fu Tingyun fell silent.
If one day someone asked her who she was, she'd probably have to answer the same way, wouldn't she?
Suddenly, she felt an unexpected closeness between them.
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O(∩_∩)O~
(End of Chapter)
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