The wine was finished, the meat all eaten, and the campfire crackled as it burned. Everything seemed the same as ever.
But looking at the lady sitting quietly by the fire, as still as a statue, everyone sensed something different.
Graceful and serene, yet able to sing boisterously with these rugged men. Despite some coarse movements, there was an effortless grandeur in her every gesture.
She seemed as delicate as a spring blossom, yet on closer look, as if aged by countless years.
“What’s there to look at?” a few of the men said with a glare, turning toward the young man glancing over from the other side of the campfire.
The young man was dressed similarly to Cheng Jiao-niang, wearing a deep-hooded cloak, with his robes billowing in the night wind.
Everyone present eyed him with a hint of guarded curiosity.
“Is this a young lady or an older lady?” he asked with interest. “She looks like a young lady, yet… somehow resembles an old woman?”
In what way did she resemble an old woman?
“Watch your mouth, kid!” the men said in annoyance.
“Isn’t that the case?” the young man took a few steps closer, pausing. “Why does her voice sound so harsh?”
How rude!
The men all stood up at once, while the young man’s attendants immediately eyed them with hostility.
The atmosphere grew tense.
“It’s nothing; it’s just that I have been unwell for a long time,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
“Did you hear that? The lady’s not a normal person!” one of the men shouted angrily.
The young man couldn’t hold back and snickered.
“The lady’s not a normal person, and you’re laughing!” the man shouted, even angrier, glaring at him.
The man beside him raised his hand and slapped him.
“Idiot! You’re the one who’s sick! Why are you insulting the lady?” he yelled.
The man was left a bit dazed by the slap.
“Huh? I didn’t insult the lady,” he said blankly.
The young man laughed heartily and walked over to sit down nearby.
“Hey, you…you can’t sit here,” one of the men said, managing to squeeze out the words. “Men and women should keep their distance.”
The young man found this even more amusing, lifting his hood slightly to look at the man.
“So, you’re not a man?” he asked.
The man’s eyes bulged in anger.
“Who are you calling…” he started, pointing at the young man, ready to curse him.
“Liuzi,” the man who had been leaning against a wooden rack interrupted sternly, “Keep it down, stop making a fuss.”
The men fell silent, shooting a resentful glare at the young man, and then all sat down, positioning themselves on either side to separate the young man from Cheng Jiao-niang.
On the other side, Fourth Master Chen noticed this as well and frowned.
“Should we ask the lady to rest in the carriage?” he said, looking at Steward Cao.
Steward Cao remained as he always did.
“Sure, sure,” he replied, but didn’t take a step, clearly implying that if Fourth Master Chen wanted to say something, he should go and say it himself.
All it took was being parched that one time, and he’s scared stiff—some “brave household” of Old Shan Zhou family he is. More like a useless household, thought Fourth Master Chen with disdain as he sat down by the fire.
The campfire fell silent.
“The warmth and coldness of human relationships, the fickleness of the world, the joys and sorrows—all these can be experienced even if one’s ill; age is not a requirement,” Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly spoke, her small chin visible beneath her hood.
What does that mean?
The men glanced at each other in confusion.
The young man looked down at the fire. Hearing this, he seemed to smile, his mouth curving into a visible grin.
So, that’s how it is?
“Miss,” the man beside her spoke, “so you, too, are unwell, yet you still offered us help, treating our illnesses and saving lives. Such compassion is a Bodhisattva’s heart, and surely you will be blessed for it.”
Cheng Jiao-niang made a small sound of acknowledgment and turned slightly to look at him.
“Have you studied?” she asked.
The topic shifted quickly…
The man was momentarily taken aback.
“Wouldn’t dare say I’ve studied—just know a few characters,” he replied with a smile.
“Then why did you stop studying?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
“Too poor—couldn’t keep going. Had to earn a bit of military pay to feed the family,” the man said with a laugh.
Cheng Jiao-niang gave a small nod and turned her gaze back to the fire.
“Then, why did you offer your help?” the young man suddenly asked.
Everyone present frowned.
The topic shifted again? Not really… why is this young man just chiming in randomly?
One of the men couldn’t help scratching his head, feeling a bit confused.
The man who had studied was quicker to respond, frowning as he looked at the young man.
“I was gravely ill and on the verge of death, with only a few brothers by my side. Even the post stations turned us away, leaving us stranded in the wilderness with no money and no servants at our beck and call. So, my lord, you tell me—why would this lady lend us a hand?” he said, raising his brows, his thick beard bristling with anger.
“Perhaps she was taken by your handsome looks?” the young man said with a smirk.
“You!” the other men shouted angrily, with a few of them jumping up.
This scoundrel! Not only did he speak disrespectfully about their benefactor, but now he dared to mock the kindness and generosity she had shown.
These pampered young lords from wealthy families, ignorant of hardship and suffering, were the most detestable!
“Hey, you may not often encounter warm-heartedness, but it does exist in this world,” the ailing man said sternly. “Don’t make jokes about it.”
The young man showed no concern for the hostility directed at him, shrugging his shoulders.
“It wasn’t me who said it,” he replied. “She said it herself.”
The men muttered curses under their breath.
“Miss, the seven of us, all fellow townsmen from Maoyuan Mountain. There’s no need for you to remember our humble names; we only wish to ask for your name, so we can remember your kindness,” the ailing man said, no longer paying attention to the young lord, and looked earnestly at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“Yes, yes! You saved my brother and even gave us money.”
“Undoubtedly like our reborn parents…”
“We should set up a longevity tablet for the lady…”
A cacophony of simple yet heartfelt words of gratitude filled the air.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s lips curved slightly, but in the end, she didn’t reveal her name and instead was supported by her maid as they went to rest.
Knowing that their journey was arduous, the brothers from Maoyuan Mountain didn’t dare to disturb her and chose not to ask further.
“The lady is truly benevolent; she gives without expecting anything in return, so at ease,” the ailing man sighed.
“Even if you’ve studied, don’t always be so formal,” the young man interjected from the side, now quiet for a moment. “Being pretentious is no good.”
Under the angry glares of the men, the young man casually walked away.
“This kid, all dressed up like a noble, yet he’s such a scoundrel,” one of the men grumbled angrily.
The ailing man chuckled.
“In this world, who among the wealthy isn’t a scoundrel?” he said, sounding almost rhetorical, as if talking to himself.
The camp was filled with a mix of noise and silence. Aside from those on guard, the others, exhausted from their rushed journey and the fierce battle with the wolf pack, had drunk their fill and wrapped themselves in cloaks, falling deeply asleep.
As dawn broke in the east, the camp returned to its bustling state, with all three groups preparing to rise.
The sounds of cart drivers, curses, and conversations blended together, rising like the morning mist.
“You don’t need to follow me any longer,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, looking at the seven brothers from Maoyuan Mountain who had come along. “His injuries are no longer serious; he just needs to rest and recover. However, it’s not suitable for you to continue on this long journey right now. I’ve said it before—illness can be treated, but life cannot be saved. If you don’t value your own life, even if I were right beside you, I wouldn’t be able to help.”
The seven men from Maoyuan Mountain expressed their thanks, feeling both a sense of shame and gratitude.
“But if you hadn’t come and I had lost my life, you probably would have lost yours too,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, almost entirely wrapped in her cloak against the morning chill, her mouth and chin almost hidden. “Isn’t this a reflection of the fairness of heaven?”
