The farther west they travelled, the more bitter the wind became. However, there was no snow, and the ground remained dry, allowing them to travel much faster. By the following night, they had reached the outskirts of Guiling.
It was too late to enter the city, so Ji Yu found a quiet spot where they could stop and rest for the time being. The place was sheltered by a mountain on one side and bordered by water on the other. It was not an entirely safe place to make camp, but in the depths of winter, with horses and cargo to consider, they would hardly last until dawn without somewhere to shelter from the wind.
It was now the second half of the night. Ji Yu sent men ahead to scout the surrounding area and, once they had confirmed there was no danger, ordered the entire caravan to move in.
Lying on the wooden floor of the carriage, Jian watched with wide eyes as Song Chuyi spent the first half of the night tossing and turning on the bed, sleeping in the most carefree fashion imaginable. He could only marvel at the sight.
If someone slept like that in a slave barracks, wouldn’t they get beaten? Slaves who did nothing but sell their labor were treated like livestock at night, penned up in sheds. A hundred or so slaves might have to sleep in a single shed, with barely enough room to turn over. Someone who slept the way Song Chuyi did would certainly get a beating.
In truth, though, Song Chuyi’s sleeping habits were not what astonished Jian most. After two days of observation, he had been struck by something else: every morning, Song Chuyi woke up in almost exactly the same position in which they had gone to sleep the night before, looking perfectly composed.
Jian couldn’t help marveling inwardly. So this is how the privileged live. Truly impressive!
When the carriage came to a stop, it rocked slightly, prompting Song Chuyi to shift position. In a sleepy, muffled voice, she asked, “Jian, is it dawn already?”
Jian immediately opened the window a crack, moving as quietly as possible to take a look outside. Then he replied respectfully, “It is not yet dawn.”
“If it’s not dawn, why aren’t you asleep?”
Irritably, Song Chuyi shoved a hand beneath the covers and fished out White Blade, who had been trapped under the bedding and squirming about. Then, pulling the covers around herself, she settled down to sleep again.
White Blade’s snow-white fur was now an utter mess. Crouched beside Song Chuyi’s face, it let out a series of soft whines.
Jian lay prostrate on the ground, his admiration for Song Chuyi growing even further. Master knew what I was doing without even opening their eyes! Truly divine!
Little did he know that Song Chuyi hadn’t been referring to what he had been doing earlier. Half-asleep, she had vaguely felt the urge to ask a question, and Jian had answered immediately. Surely that meant he hadn’t been asleep, or at least hadn’t been sleeping soundly. That was the only reason she had asked.
Song Chuyi lay on their side, cheek pressed against the bedding. Her pillow was nowhere to be found, but she were sleeping soundly when they suddenly felt something warm and wet against her cheek. It grew wetter and warmer by the second…
Sleepily, she reached out to feel what it was and caught hold of White Blade’s fluffy ear.
White Blade!
Song Chuyi’s eyes flew open. Sure enough, a stream of liquid was coming from a spot just inches from the tip of her nose. When it finally stopped, one last drop fell squarely onto her nose.
“YOU LITTLE SHIT!”
With a furious howl, Song Chuyi scrambled off the bed, grabbed White Blade by one paw, and roared, “You damn little bastard! Jian! Jian, get me a knife! I’m castrating this little shit right now!”
The sudden turn of events left Jian completely dumbfounded.
Ji Huan hurried over and called through the carriage window. “Master, what happened?”
White Blade had not yet learned to howl like a grown wolf. All it could manage was a sound like a puppy yelping when someone accidentally stepped on its paw.
Song Chuyi threw open the window, tossed White Blade into Ji Huan’s arms, and snapped, “Boil it! I want it cooked!”
“Yes, sir!” Ji Huan replied, and actually walked off carrying White Blade.
Looking down at the trembling creature in his arms, he felt a little conflicted. It wasn’t that he pitied the wolf. He simply thought it would be more worthwhile to raise it to adulthood before slaughtering it. After all, a beautiful snow wolf pelt could fetch a considerable price.
While still hesitating over what to do, Ji Huan carried White Blade over to the campfire and asked Ji Yu, “Steward, Master has ordered me to slaughter White Blade. Do you think I should actually do it or not?”
Song Chuyi had shouted so loudly that Ji Yu had heard every word. Without even lifting his head, he replied, “Once you’ve slaughtered White Blade, you’d better prepare to be slaughtered by Master yourself.”
Ji Huan breathed a sigh of relief. “So it was just an angry outburst. I thought as much. Someone as penny-pinching as Master would never slaughter a snow wolf this soon.”
Ji Huan really was an honest fellow. Ji Yu nodded in wholehearted agreement. “Exactly. Penny-pinching.”
He had just discovered another one of Song Chuyi’s bad habits.
Song Chuyi called for a maid to bring water into the carriage. After washing her face, she had calmed down somewhat and ordered Jian to get out and bring White Blade back.
Song Chuyi shoved White Blade into a corner of the carriage, grabbed it by the paw and made it stand upright, then proceeded to lecture it sternly for fifteen minutes. Only after that did she climb back onto the bed, shift to a different spot, and resume sleeping.
White Blade obediently curled up in the corner.
Jian had never seen Song Chuyi lose her temper so spectacularly, let alone so suddenly. He was so stunned that it took him quite some time to come back to his senses.
Daybreak had fully arrived.
Longgu Buwang rose from his bed and, after washing up, heard from his personal maid about Song Chuyi’s outburst. However, when it came to repeating the things Song Chuyi had said in anger, the maid simply could not bring herself to say them aloud. Only after Longgu Buwang pressed her several times did she finally repeat the words in a timid voice.
Longgu Buwang was left utterly dumbfounded. He bitterly regretted sleeping so soundly the previous night that he had missed the chance to witness the spectacle. What a lifelong regret!
Judging from Song Chuyi’s words, White Blade must have wet the bed again. But even the last time White Blade had done so, Song Chuyi hadn’t flown into such a rage. Longgu Buwang was consumed by curiosity, desperate to find out what exactly White Blade had done to provoke Song Chuyi so badly.
Over breakfast, Longgu Buwang kept his maid by his side and made her recount the incident several times. Only then, thoroughly satisfied, did he get dressed and go to pay his respects to his teacher.
The campsite was blessed with beautiful scenery. A small lake lay ahead, its surface sealed beneath a thick layer of ice dusted with a fine frost that shimmered in the morning light, clear and delicate. Behind them, a series of small waterfalls cascaded down a sheer cliff. The flowing water had frozen in motion, forming one motionless waterfall after another, yet each seemed poised to surge forward again at any moment.
Longgu Buwang stepped out of the carriage and saw Song Chuyi standing before the frozen waterfalls.
“Sir.” Suppressing his curiosity, Longgu Buwang respectfully bowed to Song Chuyi.
“Look at that.” Song Chuyi turned around and smiled, gesturing towards the waterfalls. “The passing of time is like this. Yet it seems things do not necessarily flow on without pause, day and night.”
Longgu Buwang hesitated. For a moment, he could not guess what deeper meaning lay behind those words, so he ventured a question. “Do you mean that Confucius was wrong?”
“Do you think Confucius was wrong?” Song Chuyi replied with a question of her own.
Longgu Buwang had always believed that Confucius’s exclamation, ‘It passes on like this, never ceasing day or night,’ uttered while gazing at a great river rushing past, was not only correct but also an apt and incisive metaphor. Did time not flow away like water, ceaselessly, day and night?
Yet, as he looked at the scene before him, he suddenly began to feel that there might indeed be a flaw in the metaphor.
“I do not know. I beg you to enlighten me.” Longgu Buwang cupped his hands in a respectful salute.
“Confucius was not wrong, because the water he saw back then was not the same water before us now.” Seeing the confusion on Longgu Buwang’s face, Song Chuyi smiled slightly. “Do you still remember what the first chapter of The Art of War teaches?”
Longgu Buwang’s eyes lit up. “I understand! War must be assessed according to five factors: the Way, Heaven, Earth, the Commander, and Law. You are telling me that the world is ever-changing, and we must judge things according to the circumstances at hand.”
Song Chuyi had found it far too easy to fool him these past few days. Although she knew it was because the boy was still rather unsettled in temperament, she couldn’t help wondering whether he might actually be a little dim-witted. Only now were she finally certain that he really wasn’t stupid. With that, they smiled in satisfaction.
“Suppose you were leading an army to attack a certain state, but a river lay between you and your target. What would you do first?”
“Observe the water level, the wind direction, and the strength of the wind.” Longgu Buwang was extremely interested in this subject, so he answered at once. But when he saw Song Chuyi shake her head, he couldn’t help asking, “Would it be to observe the enemy army’s situation first?”
