Chapter 30: "I'm So Resentful"
Just as the jailer was yawning during his rounds, he spotted Xiao Li and exclaimed, "Oh, back to see the old madman again?"
The prison guard hastily greeted him, "Boss!"
The jailer smacked the guard's head, "Go patrol, no slacking off!"
Xiao Li seemed familiar with the jailer, greeting him, "On duty today, Boss Li?"
The jailer complained, "After that bastard Huo Kun rebelled and was executed, we've had to investigate everyone who got their jobs through his connections. The prison is short-staffed these days!"
He patted Xiao Li's shoulder, "Brother Xiao has really made it now. Old Li might have to rely on you in the future!"
Having struggled through years in the gambling house, Xiao Li handled social interactions with ease. He immediately laughed, "You flatter me, Boss Li. If there's anything I can help with, just say the word!"
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the jailer said, "Duty calls, can't chat longer with you now, Brother Xiao. Let's catch up another day!"
Xiao Li replied, "Go ahead with your work. I brought you a jar of good liquor, left it in the duty room."
The jailer laughed again, "Good lad! My men have been taking care of this old fellow here. No need to be so polite in the future."
The change in address suddenly made their relationship seem much closer.
Xiao Li smoothly followed suit, "The winter nights are cold. Have a few drinks with the brothers tonight to warm up, Brother Li."
The jailer didn't refuse this time, saying, "Alright, I'll get back to work now. I'll find you for a drink later!"
After the jailer and guard walked away, the guard quietly asked, "Boss, that mad old man in that cell - his name isn't in the prison records. Who exactly is he?"
The jailer said, "When I first came to this prison over a decade ago, he was already locked up. The prefect wasn't even the current one back then. How would I know who he is?"
He glanced at the young guard following him and advised, "Don't go digging for things the higher-ups don't want you to know. You might just bring trouble upon yourself!"
This frightened the guard, who didn't dare inquire further about the mad old man. Changing the subject, he asked, "What's that Xiao fellow's relationship with the mad old man then?"
During Xiao Li's years in prison, Xiao Huiniang often came to curry favor with the guards, so the jailer naturally knew about Xiao Li's background. He said, "That kid was imprisoned at eight years old. He almost got beaten to death fighting for food with others in prison. Later, the mad old man somehow took him under his protection, but being crazy, he'd often whip the Xiao kid with chains, leaving scars all over his back year after year."
The jailer shook his head at this point, sighing with some emotion, "Fortunately, the kid has managed to make something of himself now."
The guard marveled, "Wouldn't have thought that Xiao fellow was so loyal."
Before the cell door, Xiao Li sat cross-legged on the ground, taking out two palm-sized liquor jars.
The mad old man, who had been gnawing on roast chicken, sniffed hard and immediately threw the chicken aside. His greasy hands tightly gripped the wooden bars of the cell door, "Liquor! Give me liquor!"
Xiao Li reached out to hand him a jar. The jar's belly was slightly too large to pass through the cell door gaps, so the mad old man reached both hands through the bars to hold the jar, using his teeth to pull out the stopper before gulping down a large mouthful.When he looked up again, he suddenly stared at Xiao Li with extreme wariness and demanded, "Who are you?"
Xiao Li was already accustomed to such reactions. He opened another jar of wine for himself, raised it to clink against the old man's jar, and said, "A joyous new year to you."
After speaking, he threw his head back and took a hearty swig. The spicy liquid burned down his throat, and it seemed to lighten the heavy weight pressing on his heart.
The mad old man stared at him with shifting moods, muttering, "Huan'er? No! You're not him!"
He threw down his wine jar, gripping the wooden bars of the cell door tightly with both hands, and said to himself, "Let me test you! I'll know if it's you after testing you!"
His eyes fixed unwaveringly on Xiao Li as he asked, "What is the lightning strike of military strategy?"
Xiao Li reached out to right the wine jar the old man had thrown outside the cell door, which had spilled much of its contents, and recited as if by rote: "With supply carts and cavalry against invaders, one can break solid formations and defeat infantry and cavalry that advance by night."[1]
The mad old man's eyes lit up with excitement as he pressed further: "What is the thunderous strike?"
Xiao Li stared at the wine jar he had just righted. In that moment, it felt as if he had returned to his past days in the great prison.
Back then, the old man had similarly harassed him with frenzied questions. If he failed to answer, the iron chains would come lashing down on him.
The old man, appearing both broken and insane, would always mutter to himself, repeating the answers he wanted before shouting, "Recite it! How could Huan'er not recite it! Have you been neglecting your studies again?"
Beaten into fear, even when he had no idea what the old man was talking about, Xiao Li would mechanically memorize the answers. The next time the old man went mad, as long as he could provide the correct response, he could avoid a brutal beating.
Seeing that Xiao Li had been silent for a while, the mad old man in the cell grew visibly agitated. The iron chains in his hands clanked loudly as he shook the cell door violently: "You don't know?"
He roared like a trapped beast: "Who are you? What have you done with my Huan'er?"
Xiao Li snapped back to reality and answered: "With spear-and-halberd support carriages and light chariots carrying three mantis warriors, one can break solid formations and defeat infantry and cavalry."[2]
Having obtained the desired answer, the mad old man laughed heartily again: "Huan'er! It's my Huan'er!"
His shackled hands, with only the palms and wrists able to extend beyond the cell door, picked up the wine jar again as he gulped down large mouthfuls.
Soon, the only parts of his face not covered by disheveled beard—his eye sockets and cheekbones—turned bright red.
As he drank, he sang in a hoarse, grating voice: "Laugh not when I lie drunk on the battlefield—/ How many have returned from war since days of old?"
Xiao Li had drunk more than half the jar, and his stomach burned fiercely. He bent one leg, resting his elbow on his knee, and gazed at the snow drifting down from the skylight. "Stop singing," he said. "You sound awful."
The mad old man, still drinking and singing crazily, paid him no mind.
Finally, Xiao Li lay back, using his arm as a pillow, letting the alcohol burn in his stomach. He stared for a long time at the clear moon hanging high in the sky beyond the courtyard before saying, "Old man, I'm so unwilling to accept this.The words "unwilling to accept" seemed to stimulate the mad old man. Clutching his wine jar, he laughed and cried, mumbling along: "Unwilling, unwilling..."
Soon, he threw down the empty jar, staggered to his feet, and roared drunkenly: "So unwilling!"
He swayed into a loose boxing stance: "Come, Huan'er! Let your father practice boxing with you!"
Wen Yu picked up her brush and began writing a current affairs essay criticizing Pei Song.Zhou Jing'an was unable to help her contact her personal attendants, so Wen Yu had to convey the message of her continued journey south through a current affairs essay.
Firstly, it would reassure her father and mother, trapped in Fengyang, upon receiving the news. Secondly, it would allow her attendants to stop searching for her aimlessly and instead gather together in Pingzhou.
To prevent Pei Song from intercepting it midway, the current affairs essay had to be delivered by Zhou Jing'an's subordinates two days after she set off, posted along all routes leading from Luodu to Southern Chen. This would confuse Pei Song's line of sight, making it impossible for him to predict which path she had taken, even if he knew she was heading south.
Even if Pei Song spared no expense, sending assassins along all routes to Southern Chen, the two-day delay would make it difficult for them to catch up easily.
As she was finishing writing, the maid attending to her daily needs brought in a bowl of sweet soup, saying, "The kitchen has warmed some pear soup. Madam Zhou asked me to bring you a bowl."
Wen Yu wrote the final character, set down the brush, and said, "Thank you."
The maid handed the soup bowl to Wen Yu, glanced out the window, and smiled, "The snow is so heavy tonight, yet the moon is still visible!"
Hearing this, Wen Yu also looked toward the half-open window. Failing to hold the soup bowl steady, she dropped it to the ground.
The crisp sound of porcelain shattering in the dead silence of the night inexplicably made one's heart skip a beat.
Wen Yu looked at the scattered shards and spilled pear soup, slightly furrowing her brows.
The maid who had delivered the soup blamed herself, "It's all my fault for not holding it steady. Are you burned, Miss?"
Wen Yu shook her head and said, "It's nothing. Breaking things brings peace."
She crouched down to pick up the broken pieces. The maid, chosen by Madam Zhou to accompany Wen Yu south, knew of her noble status and hurriedly said, "Miss, don't touch them. I'll pick them up. Be careful not to cut your hands on the shards."
No sooner had she spoken than Wen Yu's fingertip was indeed cut by a shard, and a drop of blood welled up. She stared blankly at the crimson on her fingertip.
The maid was horrified and slapped her own mouth, saying, "I truly have a crow's mouth. I've really hurt you, Miss."
She hurriedly fetched fine gauze and white cloth to bandage Wen Yu's wound.
Just then, the locked gate of the rear courtyard swung open in the stormy night. Urgent footsteps echoed in the darkness as a servant cried out, "Sir! Urgent news from Fengyang—"
Hearing this, Wen Yu's unease seemed to peak at that moment. Ignoring her bleeding fingertip, she pulled open the door and rushed out.
Zhou Jing'an and his wife, who had just retired for the night, hastily threw on their clothes and rose. After reading the urgent dispatch handed to them by a servant, Zhou Jing'an staggered, the letter falling from his fingers. Covering his face, he wept bitterly, "Your Highness—"
Seeing this, Madam Zhou picked up the letter and quickly scanned it. Tears instantly streamed down her face.
She looked up and saw Wen Yu, who had rushed from the small courtyard and now stood frozen at the moon gate, unable to step forward. Choking back sobs, she cried out, "Princess, Fengyang has fallen..."
The night wind stirred Wen Yu's long hair. Her face was paler than the fine snow falling under the cold moon. She asked, "What about my father?"
Zhou Jing'an choked out, "The Prince and the Young Lord... were beheaded by Pei Song and hung on the gates of Fengyang..."
By the end, he could only let out a hoarse, mournful wail.
Wen Yu's legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees in the snow. The cataclysmic news seemed to have shattered her soul, leaving her momentarily unable even to cry.
Zhou Jing'an and his wife hurried over to support her, exclaiming, "Princess!"Wen Yu’s fingers, braced against the snowy ground, tensed until her knuckles turned white. The biting night wind stung her eyes, and her breath trembled as she asked, “Where did the news come from?”
Zhou Jing’an knew she was unwilling to accept this truth, his own heart aching with sorrow as he replied mournfully, “It was brought by scouts from the front lines in Yongzhou.”
A chill crept from her fingers, inch by inch, corroding Wen Yu’s very core, freezing the blood in her veins. Forcing herself to remain composed, she asked, “Where is the letter?”
Zhou Jing’an presented it to her.
Wen Yu took it and read:
“On the first day of the first lunar month, Fengyang fell. Pei Song beheaded Changlian Wang and his son, displaying their heads at the city gates to intimidate their former followers. Under his command, General Xing Lie seized the young heir and dashed him to his death. The Princess of Changlian Wang struck a pillar and perished, while the Crown Princess, protecting her young daughter, was imprisoned in the Star-Picking Tower.”
Wen Yu’s lips parted as if to cry, but no sound emerged. Only tears fell like rolling pearls, splattering onto the letter and instantly soaking the paper.
Father, Mother, Elder Brother… and three-year-old Jun’er…
All gone.
Wen Yu clenched the letter, feeling as if a thousand steel needles were piercing her heart, the pain so intense she could hardly breathe.
Her hand involuntarily clutched the fabric over her chest as she knelt forward, hot tears streaming down and melting the thin layer of snow beneath her.
Many mouths moved around her—she saw Zhou Jing’an and Madam Zhou, their eyes brimming with tears, speaking to her—but in that moment, she heard nothing.
After a long while, when she had regained some composure, she heard Zhou Jing’an say, “…My Lady, rest for the night. Pei Song’s march south is unstoppable now. Yongzhou… cannot hold. You must reach Southern Chen before then.”
Wen Yu’s mind was numb, temporarily incapable of thought. Dazed, she murmured, “I leave the arrangements to you, my lord.”
Zhou Jing’an understood that, faced with such devastating news, she needed time alone to gather herself. Suppressing his own grief, he instructed the maids, “Escort Her Ladyship to her chambers.”
Supported by Madam Zhou and the maids, Wen Yu returned to the side courtyard. Once the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and slid weakly to the floor.
Large teardrops fell to the ground, yet she could not utter a sound.
Hatred and self-blame converged into an overwhelming tide of agony, drowning her. It was like an invisible hand, shrieking as it dragged her into an endless abyss.
—Why had she been delayed so long on the road?
—Why hadn’t she reached Southern Chen in time?
—Why hadn’t she secured reinforcements?
Hugging her knees, she gasped for air, her chest stinging so sharply she could hardly breathe.
If she hadn’t been pursued, hadn’t been separated from her attendants, hadn’t been abducted and brought here… would everything have been different?
Wen Yu lifted her head, letting tears stream down her cheeks and soak into the fabric of her robes.
Xiao Li, having rushed over upon hearing the tragic news, stood outside the small courtyard wall, peering through the carved stone window. Her room was pitch dark.
He knew she would not sleep tonight, but before dawn broke, she likely wished to see no one.
Leaning against the wall, Xiao Li gazed up at the cold moon, keeping watch through the night.
As daybreak approached, he brushed the snow from his shoulders, scaled the wall, and knocked on her door. It seemed bolted from within, with no response.
Circling to the back of the room, he pushed open the window and saw Wen Yu at once—huddled by the door, knees drawn to her chest.
Her eyes were swollen, tear tracks still fresh on her face, yet he acted as if he hadn’t noticed, asking simply, “Feel like riding out of the city?”A quarter of an hour later, Xiao Li rode out of the city through the northern gate with Wen Yu, their horse treading over the frost-covered ground.
The winter morning wind was like a blade drawn from ice, cutting sharply against their faces with each gust.
Though Xiao Li’s tall frame blocked some of the wind ahead, the hood of Wen Yu’s cloak was still blown back. The piercing cold air stabbed into her lungs with every breath, making it impossible to distinguish whether the icy sting in her chest came from the wind or the overwhelming grief. The tears at the corners of her eyes once again dried up in the relentless cold.
Xiao Li cracked the whip, and the horse galloped along the official road covered in frost and thin ice. The biting wind chilled his hands gripping the reins down to the bones. Glancing down at Wen Yu’s red, frozen hands clutching his robe at the waist, he unwrapped the felt scarf from his neck and wrapped it around her hands.
The horse bred by the Governor’s residence had remarkable endurance. It ran for nearly another half-hour after leaving the city without showing signs of fatigue, only stopping when they reached the Wei River. Despite the felt scarf, Wen Yu’s hands were numb from the cold.
After Xiao Li dismounted, she tried to climb down by holding onto the saddle, but her stiffened hands lost their grip, and she stumbled. Xiao Li caught her with a long arm, steadied her on her feet, then withdrew his hand and clasped it behind his back. But Wen Yu, consumed by immense sorrow, paid no attention.
Knowing the weight of her grief, Xiao Li said, “This is the Wei River. Cross it, and another five hundred li east lies Fengyang.”
Dawn had just broken. Snow-capped distant mountains stood silent, and the reeds along the riverbank were coated in a translucent layer of morning frost. Wen Yu stood at the water’s edge, her long hair and robes fluttering in the wind. Her eyes, already sore and dry from crying, gazed toward the mist-shrouded opposite bank of the Wei River, and tears once again streamed down her face.
She knelt and kowtowed three times toward the unseen homeland of Fengyang, her thin shoulders trembling as she finally broke into heart-wrenching sobs. From this day onward, she had no mother, no father, and no elder brother.
Pei Song, Pei Song!
All her grief and agony, carried on the howling wind and her tearing cries, condensed into those two blood-soaked words.
Hatred crushed every shred of sorrow and pain.
When her tears were spent, Wen Yu lifted her head in the faint morning light and stared at the opposite shore. Her reddened eyes could shed no more tears, leaving only a murderous aura condensed in the frosty wind: "I, Wen Ziyu of the Wen clan, swear in this life to kill Pei Song and avenge this blood debt!"”
Xiao Li stood silently beside her by the Wei River, his gaze piercing through the river mist toward Fengyang—a city he had never visited. It was as if he were also looking beyond the haze at the one who had seized that land in bloodshed—Pei Song.
Author's Note:
[1] “The charging chariot, also called the lightning chariot, is known in military strategy as the lightning strike, capable of breaking solid formations and defeating infantry and cavalry under night assault.” — The Tiger’s Talons
[2] “One hundred sixty light chariots with spears and halberds, each carrying three mantis warriors, are termed in military strategy the thunder strike, used to break solid formations and defeat infantry and cavalry.” — The Tiger’s Talons
Red envelopes are available for this chapter too~
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