The carriage’s interior was a bit cramped. Even with the benches folded up, the space was only about seven feet square. Fortunately, neither Su Yan nor Jinghong Zhui was particularly tall. Lying down side by side left about a shoulder’s width between them—enough room to turn over.
Despite having felt sleepy earlier, Su Yan found himself wide awake once he laid down. He stared at the dark ceiling, then at the faint orange glow of the campfire filtering through the curtains.
Turning his head, he glanced at the man lying next to him, making out Jinghong Zhui’s features in the dim light.
Jinghong Zhui shifted closer to the wall, giving Su Yan more room.
Su Yan chuckled softly, his voice like a spring trickling through the quiet, narrow space. “Why are you scooting over to the wall? Are you practicing wall-climbing kung fu?”
Jinghong Zhui lay fully clothed, his arms crossed over his chest as he held his sword. Without moving his gaze from the carriage ceiling, he replied, “I have enough space.”
Suddenly, Su Yan remembered something. He pulled an envelope from his chest pocket and waved it in front of Jinghong Zhui. “This is the letter you left for me before going to Lingguang Temple. There’s a line you crossed out. What was it?”
Jinghong Zhui’s breathing hitched. “Just a mistake. I crossed it out.”
“I don’t believe you,” Su Yan said, unconvinced. “It doesn’t make sense. The sentences before and after don’t connect. You definitely wrote something there.”
“‘Though thousands stand against me, I go forward…’” Su Yan recited the letter aloud. “‘Your great kindness and virtue, I shall repay in the next life.’” He paused, then pressed, “You were preparing for the worst. But what if you had lived? Why didn’t you write that part? Is that what you crossed out?”
“…”
“Hey, the master is asking you. As a subordinate, how can you not answer your master’s question?”
Cornered by Su Yan’s tone, Jinghong Zhui reluctantly admitted, “Yes.”
“What did you write before? Tell me already—I’ve been dying of curiosity for days.”
“…”
When Jinghong Zhui stayed silent again, Su Yan started poking him in the chest with the corner of the envelope, urging him, “Hurry up and spill. Stop keeping me in suspense!”
Driven to his limit, Jinghong Zhui snatched the envelope and stuffed it into his own pocket. Awkwardly, he said, “I was muddle-headed when I wrote it. It was just a farewell note—nothing worth mentioning.”
From his stiff posture to his brittle tone, Jinghong Zhui resembled a piece of dried wood. Yet Su Yan caught a hint of nervousness in his voice. Amused, he coaxed, “Fine. You can just say it casually, and I’ll listen casually. No big deal.”
Jinghong Zhui gripped his ever-present sword tightly, his palms beginning to sweat. In a dry, deliberate voice, he said, “Though thousands stand against me, I go forward. If I succeed, I will have no regrets. This life will belong to you. If I fail, I regret neither my loyalty nor our fate. Your great kindness and virtue, I shall repay in the next life.”
Su Yan froze, silently chewing over the words. Such simple phrases carried a weight of boundless loyalty and devotion. The promise Jinghong Zhui made was as heavy as the Nine Tripod Cauldrons of legend. Even though it had been crossed out on paper, it remained engraved in his heart.
So that’s why he waited for me on the official road outside the relay station, insisting on becoming my guard… But Wei Jun isn’t dead yet, and his revenge isn’t complete. Can he really say he has no regrets?
Su Yan rested his arm under his head, gazing at the determined profile of the person beside him in the darkness. He spoke softly, “I will make sure you have no regrets. As for the words you erased, I already said—they don’t count. A person’s life is too long and too precious. Aside from himself, no one else has the right to take it away.”
Jing Hongzhui remained silent.
Su Yan sighed lightly. “I know you are a man of your word. Have you heard of Yu Jing from the Song Dynasty? He was one of the four remonstrators of the Qingli era. He once said something that I deeply agree with—‘Promises are not made lightly, so I do not betray others. Promises are not trusted easily, so others do not betray me.’ You do not make promises lightly, and I do not trust them easily. That way, neither of us will ever betray the other. Isn’t that good?”
Jing Hongzhui remained silent still, and it was unclear whether he understood the meaning behind Su Yan’s words.
In the long silence, Su Yan drifted into sleep.
Faintly, he seemed to hear fragmented words brushing past his ears like a dream: “This life… to serve… but not for…” His fingers twitched slightly, as if trying to grasp onto the dream, but his consciousness soon faded into deep slumber.
The next morning, Su Yan woke to the chirping of birds. He found no one beside him. Rubbing his face, he adjusted his clothes and stepped down from the carriage. A basin filled with fresh water and a towel had been placed on a flat stone beside the cart. Nearby, by the dying embers of the campfire, Jing Hongzhui was stirring a pot of thick porridge with a wooden ladle.
Across from him, sitting on the other side of the fire, was Gao Shuo. He stared at the carriage absentmindedly, dark circles evident under his eyes.
As Su Yan washed his face, he grinned at him. “Didn’t sleep well last night? Too many mosquitoes?”
Gao Shuo, who wouldn’t dare admit he’d stayed up all night straining his ears for any suspicious sounds from the carriage—worried his superior might be cuckolded by a wandering outlaw—could only force a smile and nod. “Yes… so many mosquitoes. Kill one, and another takes its place. It never ends.”
The past assassin cooking congee let out a disdainful snort from where he sat.
Gao Shuo shot him a vicious glare, already making a mental note to report him later in his secret Embroidered Uniform Guard dossier.
Su Yan hadn’t slept well either. He nodded. “Well, that’s the wilderness for you. No way around it. Next time, let’s push on a little further and stay at an inn in a village or town instead.”
—
After twelve days of traveling beneath the stars and sun, they finally entered the borders of Shaanxi, nearing Yanan Prefecture.
Days of relentless journeying had left them covered in dust. Though they had bathed at inns along the way, the sweltering heat made the carriage stuffy and unbearable. Su Yan, drenched in sweat, fanned himself desperately, but it was useless. He sipped from a leather water pouch, only to find the water inside warm and unrefreshing, making him long for the ice buckets and chilled fruits of the capital.
By midday, the blazing sun scorched the mountain pass, and even the hardened Embroidered Uniform Guard and imperial guards were struggling with the heat. Their leader, Chu Yuan, approached Su Yan for permission to rest for an hour in a nearby grove to escape the worst of the sun.
Su Yan gladly agreed. The group veered off the official road and stopped by the edge of the dense forest, where they sought shade beneath the trees to rest and hydrate.
The cicadas in the trees chirped incessantly, making Su Yan feel annoyed. He walked about a hundred steps away and saw a lake not far ahead. The sound of rushing water could be heard, suggesting a waterfall nearby. His spirits lifted at once. Returning to the carriage, he grabbed a set of clean clothes and told Jinghong Zhui, “I’m going to take a bath in the lake.”
Jinghong Zhui immediately said, “This subordinate will stand guard for you.”
Su Yan chuckled. “Stand guard for what? It’s not like I’m some delicate young lady, afraid of being peeked at while bathing.” In his past life, he had been used to open showers at school, where a dozen or more men squeezed into the same space. He had long since stopped caring. It even made back-scrubbing more convenient. He gestured to Jinghong Zhui, “Why don’t you grab some clothes too? We can go in together.”
Jinghong Zhui froze for a moment and instinctively refused. “No need.”
“Suit yourself. I grew up by the river and am a strong swimmer. If you’re still worried, just keep an eye on me from the shore—and while you’re at it, catch a few fish. We’ll have fish soup tonight.”
With that, Su Yan found a suitable rock by the shore to place his clothes. He started untying his hair and loosening his robes.
He moved swiftly. In no time, he had shed his outer garment, revealing his fair shoulders and back. Under the sunlight, his sweat-dampened skin gleamed like jade. Then, he bent down to remove his silk trousers.
Jinghong Zhui quickly turned away, only daring to look back after hearing the splash of Su Yan diving into the water. He caught a glimpse of pale limbs flashing in the waves and immediately identified them—waist, hips, thighs. His heart pounded. Feeling uneasy, he turned away and grabbed some small stones from the ground.
Narrowing his eyes at the shimmering lake, he flicked his fingers, sending a stone flying. A fish immediately floated belly-up. Using his fingers like a bow and the stones as arrows, he struck true every time. Soon, over a dozen fish were floating on the surface.
Drawing his longsword, he slashed at the water, sending up a spray of droplets. Several stunned fish were flung onto the shore with the splash.
Still feeling uneasy about Su Yan’s safety, he stepped out from behind the rock to glance at the lake. Su Yan had already swum near the waterfall and was waving at him from a distance, beckoning him to join.
Jinghong Zhui shook his head in refusal, but the corners of his lips curled slightly. He thought to himself, Lord Su still has a youthful heart—let him play a little longer.
Returning to the grassy patch filled with fish, he broke off a few willow branches, threading the fish through their mouths and stringing them into two heavy bundles, which he then hung from a nearby branch. After finishing, he walked back to the lake—only to realize, to his shock, that Su Yan had disappeared from the water’s surface.
Maybe he dove underwater to catch fish or shrimp? He waited for a while, but there was still no sign of Su Yan. His expression changed drastically.
—
Only a few locals knew that behind the Eagle’s Beak Mountain waterfall lay a hidden cave, a natural wonder carved by time. Deep inside was a winding, concealed path that led up the mountainside.
Two men, Wang Five and Wang Six, emerged from the passage, stepping carefully over the puddled ground. As they waded into the water beneath the waterfall, preparing to swim across the lake, Wang Six suddenly grabbed his brother’s arm and whispered excitedly, “Look! There’s a little lady in the lake!”
Wang Five scoffed, “A woman? In the middle of nowhere? She’s probably some mountain spirit or demon.”
Despite his words, he looked carefully—and sure enough, not far away, a figure was floating in the lake with her back to them, treading water. Her silk-like black hair cascaded down, but it couldn’t fully hide her smooth, porcelain skin. Her exposed shoulders, peeking through the strands, were as pale as snow.
Half a silhouette naturally didn’t reveal gender, but they’d never seen a man as pale as that, so they immediately assumed it was a woman of mysterious and suspicious origin.
The two brothers exchanged a look, silently dove underwater, and swam toward the figure. Each grabbed one ankle and abruptly yanked downward.
Caught off guard, Su Yan was pulled into the lake, swallowing a mouthful of water. Then an arm, thick and strong, wrapped around his neck, dragging him backward. It wasn’t long before the roaring waterfall poured over him, the rushing current leaving him disoriented and battered.
Dragged into a cavern and thrown onto the damp rocks, Su Yan coughed violently, tears streaming down his face as he felt like he was about to hack up a lung.
Wang Six looked at Su Yan’s chest and between his legs before exclaiming, as if struck by lightning, “…It’s a man!”
Wang Five also looked disappointed. “It’s actually a man.”
After a coughing fit, Su Yan wiped his face and glared at the two maniacs who had suddenly appeared to drag him away.
The two men were dressed in short, rough outfits: coarse linen pants and sleeveless jackets that barely tied at the front, leaving their sculpted chests and muscular arms exposed. Their skin was sunbaked to a deep bronze.
The two, who appeared to be brothers around twenty-six or twenty-seven, shared similar thick brows, large eyes, and sharp features. Their cheeks were covered with freshly shaven stubble, giving them a rugged, untamed appearance. Both had tattoos on their arms—beasts resembling tigers or leopards, though the designs were crude. One had the tattoo on his left arm, the other on his right.
From their looks and attire, Su Yan figured they were either bandits or horse thieves. He regretted swimming too far from shore and not forcing Jinghong Zhui to join him in the water.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced toward the waterfall, calculating whether yelling for help might allow his voice to pierce the thundering cascade and reach the other side of the lake… No, absolutely not. Unless he had mastered the Shaolin Lion’s Roar technique, it was hopeless.
Wang Six squatted down, scrutinizing Su Yan’s face. In a thick accent, he asked, “Who are you? What’s your family’s trade? And why are you at Eagle Beak Mountain?”
Su Yan forced a mild, bashful smile. “I am a scholar from the capital. My family are tenant farmers who barely managed to scrape together enough to fund my studies. I’m currently traveling with a trade caravan to visit relatives in Yanan Prefecture, Shaanxi. Passing through these beautiful lands, I went for a swim in the lake to escape the heat. If I’ve disturbed you gentlemen, I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
Wang Six spat. “So, just a bookish weakling. I thought you might be some mountain spirit or fox spirit—what a letdown.”
Su Yan silently cursed in his heart: You’re the fox spirit! Your whole family are fox spirits!
Outwardly, his smile grew more innocent and harmless. “Gentlemen, I must apologize for my lack of decorum, being without a stitch of clothing. May I return to the lake to dress before we continue this conversation? Confucius said, ‘Do not see what is improper, do not hear what is improper, do not speak what is improper, and do not act improperly.’…”
Wang Six winced from his Confucius saying no no no, head pounding. He waved him off irritably. “Fine, go, put on your clothes, and get lost! This mountain is within the territory of the Mighty—”
Wang Five coughed loudly and interrupted, “If he’s uninvolved, just let him go.”
Su Yan bowed respectfully, pretending to be in a flustered hurry, and stepped gingerly through the water toward the waterfall.
Wang Six got to his feet, watching the scholar walk away, grumbling about how there was nothing interesting to see about a man’s back but still sneaking a couple of extra glances.
Just as Su Yan was about to leave the waterfall, Wang Five suddenly called out, “Stop!” He strode over in a few quick steps, grabbed Su Yan’s wrist, and began inspecting his palm and fingers. Then, as if inspired, he lifted one of Su Yan’s legs to examine the sole of his foot.
Thrown off balance, Su Yan nearly fell onto the rocks, clutching Wang Five’s jacket for support. With a loud rip, the already worn seam on the shoulder tore apart.
Wang Five’s short jacket had been reduced to half a shoulder covering. Su Yan was clutching the other half that had slipped down, and just as the back of his head was about to hit the ground, Wang Six reacted swiftly, extending an arm from behind to catch him by the neck.
Su Yan immediately grabbed onto his arm, flipped himself upright, and let out a breath of relief. “Many thanks for your help, good sir. Otherwise, this humble scholar would have cracked his skull open.”
Wang Five snorted. “Thank my *ss! You little brat, stop lying—you’re slippery as h*ll! I’ve never seen a tenant farmer’s son with hands and feet this smooth, not even a single callus. You’re clearly some pampered young master, either filthy rich or from an official’s family.”
Hearing this, Wang Six’s eyes lit up. He looked Su Yan up and down again and grinned. “What a fat sheep!”
Su Yan felt a chill run down his spine and opened his mouth to say something else—only to be struck at the back of the neck by Wang Five’s knife-hand. He blacked out instantly.
Wang Six caught his limp body with ease, hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of rice, and asked, “Brother, what do we do with him?”
Wang Five replied, “Take him back to the stronghold first. Once he wakes up, we’ll see how much we can squeeze out of him.”
Without delay, the two carried Su Yan away along the hidden path.
Moments later, a shadow flashed past the waterfall and into the cave.
Jing Hongzhui had searched the lake and its depths but found no sign of Su Yan. In the end, his gaze fell suspiciously on the waterfall. He flicked a stone into the rushing water and immediately detected a hollow space behind it. Without hesitation, he plunged through the cascade and discovered the cave.
Crouching low, he carefully examined the damp rock floor, looking for any clues amidst the moisture. Soon, he spotted the concealed path leading deeper into the cave, confirming that Su Yan had been taken. A mix of fury and urgency surged within him. His expression darkened, and he dove into the passage without hesitation.
—
Back at the lakeside grove, the Embroidered Uniform Guard cavalrymen had just about finished resting and were preparing to move on. Chu Yuan took a quick survey of the area and, realizing Su Yan and Jing Hongzhui were nowhere in sight, asked the others in confusion, “Has anyone seen Lord Su?”
The men exchanged glances and shook their heads.
Su Xiaobei spoke up, “Lord Su went back to the carriage earlier to fetch a change of clothes. He probably went to bathe in the lake. Wu—uh, Brother Jinghong went with him. They should be fine.”
“It’s time to leave. If we don’t move soon, we won’t reach the city before nightfall.” Chu Yuan frowned. “Who wants to check the lake?”
“I’ll go! I’ll go!” Gao Shuo volunteered instantly, cursing internally. Two grown men—how long does it take to take a d*mn bath? A lovers’ soak?!
Gripping his blade, he strode toward the lake, fueled by righteous indignation at the thought of catching his superior in a scandal.
Meanwhile, on a nearby hillside, a large group of rough-looking men in short, coarse garments sat on horseback, watching the forest closely. One of them turned to the leader and asked, “Do we make a move? Twenty-two horses, two carriages—it’s a big haul.”
The leader narrowed his eyes at the group below. “They’re all armed, and they look like they know how to fight. Tough prey.”
“Even if they’re tough, there are only twenty of them at most. We’ve got over two hundred brothers here—are you telling me we can’t crush them?” one of the burly men said.
“…But the first and second bosses haven’t returned yet. Maybe we should wait for their decision,” another man suggested.
The first speaker pressed, “They probably won’t be back any time soon. If we let this opportunity pass, there won’t be another! Brother Yang, you should make the call!”
The leader hesitated briefly. Seeing that the group in the forest was starting to rise, preparing to lead their horses away, he made up his mind and ordered decisively, “Fire the signal arrow—attack!”
A sharp whistle tore through the air as a signal arrow streaked across the sky.
Hearing the sound, Chu Yuan turned his head. From the hillside, a horde of mounted riders descended in a rush. Though their attire varied and their weapons were mismatched, their expertise with bow and horse was evident, and they exuded an unmistakable air of ruthless banditry. Chu Yuan immediately bellowed, “Prepare for battle! It’s mountain bandits!”
