After the young man spoke, the other couriers fell silent. The one who had been about to rise and assist settled back into his seat, as if merely adjusting to a more comfortable position.
The atmosphere grew somewhat awkward.
The station chief recognized this voice—it belonged to the same person who had first called for order outside the relay station earlier.
So young, the station chief thought, but his initial impression had been correct: this youth was clearly in charge of the group. What was his background? Family connections? Or perhaps wealth—after all, money and influence made one a master, regardless of age.
This particular master did not seem easy to deal with.
The station chief, who always preferred smooth interactions and avoiding trouble, refrained from immediately ejecting the half-grown child.
"What this child requests is but a small effort for you military gentlemen," he said. "Her father is also a soldier."
Hearing this, the couriers' expressions shifted slightly. One seemed about to ask a question, but after glancing at the youth—who continued sipping wine from his bowl as if unaware—the courier swallowed his words.
The station chief wasn't discouraged. When had anything in this world ever been easily achieved? Did anyone truly believe tears and cries of "hero" would suffice?
"Her father serves in the Border Commandery and hasn't returned in three years," the station chief explained carefully. "His wife is in poor health and intended to take their two children to join him, but she fell gravely ill upon reaching this point. The physician says taking even one step further would mean certain death. She wishes to send the children to their father while she still can—if she truly closes her eyes, these two will be left with nothing."
Upon hearing this, the half-grown child kneeling nearby kowtowed again, this time without speaking, only weeping quietly.
"Do you want us to take these two children to the Border Commandery?" one courier finally blurted out.
The station chief nodded. "These two girls could never make it to the Border Commandery on their own, nor do they have money to hire escorts. So they entrusted me to watch for any couriers heading that way who might take them along."
"But we're on urgent military business—we can't bring children," the courier said helplessly. "We can't slow our pace. Missing our deadline would cost us our heads."
"Honorable soldiers, my sister and I aren't afraid of hardship," the girl pleaded through tears. "We both know how to ride. Our father taught us when he was home."
What could children possibly have learned? And girls at that—how could they truly know horseback riding?
"If these children can reach their father, they'll have a chance at survival and might even return in time to save their mother," the station chief said. "Since this opportunity has arisen, I'm pleading on their behalf."
"Wouldn't sending a message be better?" suggested another courier.
This was the one addressed as "Boss"—Courier Zhang.
The station chief stepped forward, shaking his head at him and lowering his voice. "The wife is beyond saving. She has at most half a month left. If she dies after their funds are exhausted, these children will be truly lost."
I see, the couriers exchanged glances, then turned to look at the youth still holding his wine bowl.
"A Jiu, what do you think—" Courier Zhang asked.
So the youth was called A Jiu, the station chief noted mentally. He watched as A Jiu took a sip of wine, his expression showing no particular emotion. Still, he finally spoke: "The Border Commandery hosts numerous troops. What is this man's name? How old is he? Under which commander does he serve?"
The station chief hurriedly prepared to answer, but A Jiu glanced at him: "Let her speak herself."
Did he not trust him? The station chief promptly closed his mouth and gestured to the kneeling girl behind him."My name is A Fu." The girl suppressed her sobs, striving to make her voice clear. "My father is Yang Dachun, thirty-four years old this year. He's in Yunzhong Commandery, at the Daqing Mountain Camp, serving as a frontier garrison soldier under General Chu, the Garrison General."
Hearing the words "Garrison General Chu," several couriers couldn't help but whisper among themselves, "He's one of General Chu's men." "It's actually General Chu."
Hearing their discussion, A Fu looked up hopefully. "Sirs, you know General Chu too?"
"Who doesn't know General Chu?" one courier muttered, but then coughed and didn't continue the topic.
The young man spun the wine bowl in his hand and asked, "Where are your father's letters? You must have brought them with you?"
A Fu hurriedly fumbled inside her tattered padded coat and pulled out a small cloth bundle. Carefully unwrapping it, she revealed several letters. "Here they are."
It was evident how treasured these letters were, kept close to her body.
The young man reached out. "Let us take a look."
The courier beside him seemed slightly embarrassed and whispered to the young man, "A Jiu, it's not proper to read someone else's letters."
"What's improper about it?" The young man didn't seem to care, his eyes fixed on A Fu. "Is there anything shameful in a soldier's family letters?"
A Fu had already stood up, holding the small cloth bundle in both hands as she placed the letters into the young man's palm. His hands were slender with fair skin, but a fierce-looking scar ran straight across his entire palm.
A Fu quickly lowered her gaze, not daring to look further.
The young man distributed the letters to the others and opened one himself. He glanced at the handwriting and chuckled. "This looks like the script of those crude clerks from the Border Commandery—each character written as big as an egg, as if making them larger would make them easier to recognize."
The couriers all laughed along, looking at the letters in their hands. One chimed in, "Actually, it really works. I don't know many characters, but when I see such large writing, I feel like I can read it."
Holding the letter in one hand and his wine bowl in the other, the young man read while drinking. He read quickly, skimming through the family letter in no time.
"The contents are all correct." Courier Zhang understood the young man's intention in reading the letter and leaned over to whisper, pointing at the paper. "The writing has the distinct flavor of the Border Commandery."
The young man finished reading as well and nodded, giving A Fu a glance. "Put them away."
The couriers handed the letters back, watching as the girl carefully wrapped them up and tucked them inside her clothes again.
Only then did the Station Chief step forward. "A Fu already showed me these letters. I also wanted to send a letter there, but the back-and-forth would take too long. It's better to take the two sisters directly."
Courier Zhang tapped the table. "The journey to the Border Commandery is too far."
"Take them as far as you can," the Station Chief said. "If they can't walk any farther, they can stay at a relay station. Even so, it'll be quicker for Yang Dachun to find them."
He then signaled A Fu, who was standing there dumbfounded, with a look—this was settled, so she should kneel, kowtow, and cry.
But before A Fu could kneel, the young man stood up.
"Let's go meet this Lady Yang," he said, his phoenix eyes sweeping over A Fu and the Station Chief with a faint, ambiguous smile. "We should hear what she has to say. After all, this isn't the Station Chief's family matter, nor can a child decide it."The Station Chief couldn't help cursing inwardly. This kid was so troublesome with his bared-teeth attitude. He didn't look like someone from a poor background, yet he came to work as a lowly Courier - probably demoted here because of this temperament?
"You few strong soldiers, armed and powerful - could two twelve or thirteen-year-old girls kill anyone or set fires right under your noses?"
The interrogation seemed endless.
The Station Chief really didn't feel like talking anymore. He waved at A Fu, "Go, go. While your mother is still conscious, let her beg these soldiers herself."
A Fu didn't feel like she was being harassed. With a joyful expression, she dashed outside, "Mother, mother, the soldiers are here—"
Her voice carried both sorrow and joy, making several Couriers, especially the older ones with wives and children, feel heartache.
Ah, these were all military families. Just imagine if they were in such a situation—
"This Yang Dachun is also useless, letting his wife and daughter fall to such a state." A Jiu's disdainful voice rang out, "So shameful."
He drained the remaining wine in his bowl and strode outside.
Enough - they didn't want to admit they were also useless, nor did they want to be shamed. Several Couriers shook off their softhearted sorrow and hurried to follow him.
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