Things having come to this, refusing further would seem hypocritical. Song Chuyi cupped her hands in thanks, “In that case… I will not decline the honor.”
“Sir, when you go on the mission to Qin, which route do you plan to take?” Longgu Qing asked, changing the subject.
Song Chuyi answered without hesitation, “Straight through Wei and Han.”
“What?” Longgu Qing was greatly alarmed. “If even a whisper of this leaks out, not only will the plan be difficult to carry out, but you will also be in danger.”
“Do you think going around through Qi and Zhao would be safer?” Song Chuyi asked.
The partitioning of Jin gave rise to Wei, Zhao, and Han. These three states frequently formed alliances to attack others, yet just as often broke off over a single disagreement. Their shifting alliances were truly commonplace. Moreover, with Zhao currently mired in civil war, it was the perfect time to exploit the situation. If the King of Wei caught wind of this, he could use the pretext of sending troops to aid a usurpation to rally forces to abduct the envoy.
Since nowhere was entirely safe, why take a detour and travel a longer, wasted road? Longgu Qing thought it over carefully and concluded that going through Wei was indeed the better option. “Good. Rest assured, this matter will certainly not be spread around.”
Song Chuyi cupped her hands but said no polite pleasantries. Longgu Qing was working so hard for the sake of Wey, not for her.
The two spoke for a while longer, and then Song Chuyi left the tea room and returned to the courtyard.
The Gongsun sisters, having been shouted at by Song Chuyi, had stopped crying.
Zi Ya and Zi Zhao stood waiting on the veranda for Song Chuyi’s return.
Originally, Zi Ya felt too ashamed to face Song Chuyi again and feared being treated coldly, so she did not dare to meet her. But Zi Zhao insisted on waiting on the veranda for Song Chuyi, so Zi Ya had no choice but to brace herself and stand there.
Though she had already seen things clearly in her heart, just as a child who grew up as a lowly commoner could never truly acquire the bearing of nobility simply by putting on fine clothes, for a time she still could not truly regard herself as a slave. Dignity may not weigh much, but for those who have it, it is very hard to let go.
“Master,” the two curtsied in greeting.
Song Chuyi said, “Rise. Pack your things. In two days, you will come with me.”
“So soon…” Zi Ya could not help but raise her head.
Song Chuyi gave her a faint glance. “You may choose not to come. I have said it twice in one day and do not wish to repeat it a third time.”
Pausing briefly, Song Chuyi continued, “Given your looks, especially yours, Zi Zhao, as long as you lack sufficient protection, your fate will be the same no matter where you go. I merely wish to cooperate with you. The husbands I intend to find for you are surely great men rarely seen in this world, but whether you can capture their hearts will depend on your own respective methods.”
Song Chuyi regarded them leisurely and said slowly, “I have said all there is to say. Now decide whether to stay or go. Go, and I will say nothing more and release you. Stay, and cast aside your other thoughts, follow my arrangements in all things, and if you have the ability to make use of me, you are welcome to try. But if you fail to make use of me, the misery that follows is beyond anything you can imagine, and there is nothing I cannot do.”
Zi Ya and Zi Zhao had already discussed it beforehand, so they said in unison, “We are willing to stay.”
“Then go pack your things.” Song Chuyi also took Ji Yu’s words to heart. After observing them for some time, it seemed unlikely that these two were Wei spies.
Because the mission to Qin was secret, Song Chuyi did not bid farewell to anyone, and only set out in the latter half of the night the next day, braving the biting cold wind.
The first thing Song Chuyi did was instruct everyone properly and unify their story. This time they would pose as a Qi merchant caravan dealing in slaves, with their destination being Han. Due to the severe cold, they feared the river would freeze, making water transport inconvenient.
The farther northwest they went, the colder the weather would become. Even the surging waters of the Yellow River would freeze into a thick layer of ice. If not for the season being wrong, traveling by water could take them directly into Qin without stopping, and if all went smoothly, they could arrive in half a month.
However, traveling by land had one advantage: it would not attract attention.
For a long journey, one naturally could not use a small boat. At present, there were relatively many vessels from Yue, Qi, and Chu, but as one headed toward Longxi, large boats would become fewer and fewer. Traveling by water would easily draw notice. So even if the Yellow River had not frozen, Song Chuyi would not have lightly chosen the water route. The current situation was even better.
At Song Chuyi’s request, the leader escorting them into Qin this time was Ji Yu. All affairs within the caravan were under his command. Ji Huan and Yun Ruo had also come along.
The wilderness stretched vast and boundless, the moon bright and the stars sparse.
A piercingly cold wind blew past, causing the half-man-high wild grass in the open fields to ripple in layered, dark waves. Withered branches and fallen leaves added a certain expansive, magnificent scenery, but Song Chuyi was terribly sleepy and had no time to look. After giving her instructions, she returned to the carriage, wrapped herself in the bedding, and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
She slept so deeply she lost all sense of time. When Song Chuyi began to regain awareness, she faintly heard an old man singing loudly outside. His voice was hoarse and dry, made unsteady by the howling wind, sometimes clear, sometimes broken.
“The wise man builds a city; the wise woman overturns it. Alas, that wise woman – she is an owl, a screech owl. A woman with a long tongue is the ladder of calamity. Disorder does not descend from heaven; it is born from women. It is not by teaching or instruction – it is ever the women and the palace attendants…”
The voice came through in fragments, yet it was a piece from the Major Odes. Someone singing the Major Odes in the wilderness was one thing, but the content of the poem gave Song Chuyi a strange feeling in the depths of her heart.
A wise man can establish a state; a talented woman throws the government into chaos. That clever woman – like an owl making eerie cries. She has a long tongue, skilled at glib argument, breeding evil and planting the roots of disaster. Great chaos does not descend from heaven; it is born from this woman who excels at slander. Admonitions to the king go unheeded; the words of women and palace attendants are always trusted.
This piece from the Major Odes sang of King You of Zhou’s benightedness in listening to a woman’s words. She, Song Chuyi, was also a woman. As the singing gradually drew nearer, Song Chuyi quickly tidied her hair, pushed open the carriage window, and looked outside.
The boundless snowfield met the sky, azure and white reflecting each other, pure and unstained by a speck of dust. The air was fresh and bitterly cold. Song Chuyi coughed once, squinted, and looked into the wind.
An old man in a loose robe of grayish-brown hemp cloth sat on an ox’s back, moving slowly along. His beard and hair were grizzled, his face gaunt and clear-featured. He had his hands tucked into his sleeves, cradling a mulberry-wood staff at a slant against his chest.
When they were about to draw near, Song Chuyi raised her voice and asked, “Sir, why do you sing?”
The old man looked at Song Chuyi as he slowly passed the caravan, then answered with a chuckle, not answering the question, “Child, you have a fine face.”
“Could he be a Yin-Yang school practitioner?” Song Chuyi murmured to herself.
Many people had said that Song Chuyi was born with a good physiognomy. Her forehead was full, her nose bridge straight, and at first glance she lacked a certain feminine softness. What was called “a good birth” merely meant that she easily gathered the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, and that she had the look of good fortune.
In her previous life, Song Chuyi had truly suffered no less than those slaves, and she had often cursed those Yin-Yang practitioners who had praised her looks. But ever since her rebirth, she felt that the reason she had suffered so much was to accumulate good fortune for crossing the tribulation. Therefore, she was now quite interested in Yin-Yang practitioners.
They had met by chance, and Song Chuyi still had important matters to attend to. Everything should be handled with caution, so she did not intend to catch up with the old man and strike up a conversation.
Toward evening, the wind grew fiercer, and snow began to fall from the sky again. The horses were faintly restless, puffing mist from their mouths and noses. The carriage could barely move forward through the wind and snow.
Bang, bang, bang.
Song Chuyi’s carriage window was knocked on, and from outside came Ji Huan’s voice, speaking with difficulty, “Sir, Commander Ji asks whether we should find a place to set up camp? If this continues, the horses may freeze to death.”
Song Chuyi slid the carriage window open with a rattle and looked outside. “Remember this: there is no such thing as ‘Commander Ji’ deciding matters like this. He can make the decision himself.”
Ji Yu had led troops into battle several times already, and judging by his ability to survive in the wilderness of Song, he was no ordinary man. For small matters like this, he could certainly make the correct judgment. Sparing her own effort whenever possible was one of Song Chuyi’s consistent principles in life.
Ji Yu had only sent someone to ask because he had seen hills ahead. Upon receiving such an answer from Song Chuyi, he decisively ordered them to head for the foot of the hills. The hills here were not tall, but at least the wind speed at their base would be somewhat gentler.
On a snowy day, dusk arrived extremely early and extremely quickly. As they were nearing the foot of the hills, Ji Yu discovered that there was actually a faint flicker of firelight there. He raised his hand and called out, “Stop.”
“Ji Huan, take a few men and go take a look. If there is danger, send word immediately.” Ji Yu took a three-inch short flute from his bosom and tossed it to him.
“Ha!” Ji Huan caught the flute, pointed to a few men, and rode toward that direction.
Before long, the men returned. “It is five hunters. They encountered a snow wolf by chance. Two are severely wounded and barely breathing.”
