Chapter 22: Slap

Chapter 22: A Slap in the Face

Mu Chi couldn't recall exactly when he had drifted off to sleep.

Long ago, he had found it unbearable to have anyone near him while he slept. Such proximity would ignite a frenzied agitation deep within him, leaving him restless and uneasy. Even in unconsciousness, he instinctively recoiled from anyone who dared to approach.

Yet, last night, in the desolate mountain cave, he had surrendered to sleep, cradled by that warm embrace.

It was as if he had relived the moment: that luminous, pale arm holding her, a thick outer cloak draped over them both. Through the thin inner garment, he could feel her smooth skin.

A perfectly fitted embrace, limbs intertwined…

It felt like a sensual dream.

Mu Chi’s eyes snapped open, staring intently at the jagged, grotesque rock formations on the cave ceiling. His breathing remained somewhat ragged. After a long moment, a realization dawned, and his brows slowly furrowed as he glanced at the bite mark on his shoulder.

Last night was no dream.

Qiao Wan had warmed him with her own body.

Now, the torment of alternating chills and fever had vanished from his body. The wound on his chest no longer bled, and the persistent dizziness of the past few days had largely dissipated.

He had never been one to strictly adhere to societal norms or propriety. However, in Great Li, physical intimacy demanded marriage.

If Qiao Wan were to use this as leverage…

“Eat something.” Qiao Wan’s voice drifted from outside the cave. She looked weary but composed, handing Mu Chi a plain bun she held. “The soldiers from Canghe Village have left. I went to Old Mad for medicine and bought an ox cart while I was there.”

Horse carriages were scarce in Pingyang Town, and the severe cold this winter had claimed many livestock. It was a considerable feat that she had managed to acquire a living ox.

Mu Chi gazed at the now-cold plain bun in his hand, then at Qiao Wan opposite him.

Accustomed to delicacies, she clearly found the coarse fare difficult to stomach, frowning as she swallowed each bite with effort, yet she continued to eat.

She made no mention of the previous night, as if nothing had transpired.

Mu Chi’s gaze inadvertently fell upon the side of her neck. This time, without the fox fur to conceal it, that faint, suggestive red mark was strikingly visible.

A sudden irritation flared in Mu Chi’s chest. He lowered his head, took a bite of the bun, his expression dark and unreadable.

Qiao Wan glanced at him, bewildered, unable to fathom the reason for his sudden anger.

To her, last night had been a desperate act born of necessity. Even if true intimacy had occurred, she wouldn’t have dwelled on it—let alone mere physical contact.

She believed Mu Chi shared her sentiment. He probably didn’t even know what "propriety" meant.

But then… Qiao Wan recalled the bite she had inflicted on Mu Chi.

Mu Chi’s blood was as cold as he was, yet it possessed a strange power for her, effortlessly quelling the stifling heat in her chest.

After finishing the bun, Qiao Wan handed Mu Chi a waterskin. Once he had taken his medicine, they resumed their journey.

The ox cart Qiao Wan had purchased was rudimentary: a scrawny old ox and an arched canopy that offered meager protection from wind and rain.

Mu Chi was bound for Chuzhou, a city in northern Great Li, necessitating a northward journey.

With Mu Chi still a wanted man, they couldn’t use the main roads, forcing them onto remote dirt paths. The ox cart, however, made travel considerably easier.

Yet, Qiao Wan had never driven a horse carriage, let alone an ox cart.

Fortunately, the old ox was docile. Qiao Wan learned as she drove, quickly mastering the skill. She sat at the front of the canopy, swaying gently, occasionally cracking the long whip and calling out, "Giddy-up!"

Mu Chi reclined inside the canopy, his gaze often fixed on Qiao Wan’s long hair, tied back with a single ribbon. It fluttered gently in the cold wind, the strands seemingly edged with gold by the sunlight, as she occasionally called out "Giddy-up!"

The further north they traveled, the colder it became. The snow on the ground was significantly deeper than in Lingjing.

Perhaps due to the sudden cold snap, fallen trees in many areas had been completely cut down. Charcoal, more precious than gold, remained unobtainable.

Frozen livestock lay everywhere, and many birds lay stiff and lifeless in the desolate, snow-covered wilderness.

It took Qiao Wan only three days to transition from being unable to bear the sight of such suffering to utter numbness.

On the evening of the third day of their journey, they arrived at a town called Liu’an.

The town was eerily quiet, its streets covered in unswept snow. Occasionally, one or two pedestrians hurried past, and every house had its doors tightly shut.

Qiao Wan held the ox’s reins, her gaze fixed on a corner beside a vermilion gate. There, a tattered old man huddled, his hemp clothes a patchwork of repairs. His head rested against the wall, eyes closed, face frozen and bluish, yet his expression was serene.

Passersby seemed accustomed to the sight, hurrying along without a glance.

Qiao Wan’s grip on the reins tightened. The old ox let out a low "Moo," and the cart swayed.

Mu Chi subtly raised his eyes, observing Qiao Wan’s suddenly pallid face. He then followed her gaze to the old beggar leaning against the wall. Judging by his complexion, he had been dead for some time.

Mu Chi couldn’t help but feel a hint of dark amusement.

Those accustomed to luxury, naturally, had never witnessed such hardship.

Yet, he couldn't suppress a thrill of excitement.

Her naive arrogance was a product of her noble status and immense wealth.

When this facade of prosperity was stripped away, revealing the decay beneath, tainting purity with darkness—he eagerly anticipated such a scene.

“It’s getting late. Let’s find an inn first,” Qiao Wan said, her voice low and hoarse as she averted her gaze from the old man.

Mu Chi offered no objection.

However, very few shops in the town were open, and inns were nowhere to be found. The place felt desolate, like a ghost town.

It was only as they passed the last house in town that a woman appeared, dressed in a blue hemp-padded coat and a headscarf. Her cheeks were gaunt as she looked at Qiao Wan. “Are you looking for an inn, miss?”

Qiao Wan nodded, forcing a smile. “Excuse me, do you know where we might find one?”

“The inns in town are all closed, but there’s a wayside inn in Anping Village. If you don’t mind, you could rest there tonight,” the woman said, glancing at the sky. “It’s getting late, and it will only get colder tonight.”

Having stayed in Old Mad’s humble dwelling, a wayside inn was no concern for Qiao Wan. The constant jolting of the ox cart had left her back and waist aching, so she simply jumped down and walked alongside the woman, leading the ox.

The woman spoke with a local accent and glanced at Mu Chi in the cart. “Is that your…”

Qiao Wan paused, then replied, “My brother.”

Inside the canopy, Mu Chi looked up at her, his brows slightly furrowed.

Qiao Wan continued to explain, “My brother and I are traveling to Chuzhou to visit relatives. We didn’t expect the journey to be so perilous—my brother fell down a mountain.”

The woman glanced at Mu Chi’s pale complexion and visibly relaxed, smiling. “Ah, I see.”

Mu Chi’s gaze swept over the woman before settling back on Qiao Wan.

Elder brother.

Indeed… an intimately close elder brother.

Anping Village was remarkably close to Liu’an Town, a mere fifteen-minute walk.

The village was small, its houses remarkably simple, many with exposed roofs.

“A while ago, there was a sudden heavy snowfall that collapsed the roofs of many houses,” the woman explained to Qiao Wan, her eyes reddening. “Most of the livestock in the village froze to death, and many people also died that night.”

“Didn’t the authorities do anything?”

“Who would care? The big charcoal merchants are in league with the officials, and the officials are close with the influential families in Lingjing. Who would dare to intervene?”

Hearing the woman’s helpless tone, Qiao Wan felt a sudden pang of sorrow.

She had never imagined that the snowflakes she so adored could fall upon ordinary people like crushing boulders.

After walking a considerable distance, Qiao Wan looked at the still-dilapidated earthen houses ahead and turned to the woman. “Ma’am, how much longer until we arrive?”

The woman paused, looked at her, then after a moment, lowered her eyes and pointed ahead. “Right there.”

Qiao Wan followed her finger but saw only desolate emptiness.

Frowning, Qiao Wan suddenly felt a sharp object press against her chest, followed by a piercing shriek. A few warm "droplets" splattered onto her cheek.

Bewildered, Qiao Wan reached up to wipe the "droplets," her fingers trembling. She saw only crimson blood staining her hand.

The thick, metallic scent of blood instantly overwhelmed her.

She spun around. The woman who had been speaking to her just moments ago was now lying on the ground.

A gaping, bloody wound had appeared on her right wrist, staining the snow red.

On the ground lay that familiar crossbow bolt.

“Next time, it will be your head,” a gentle voice came from the ox cart.

Qiao Wan’s eyes widened as she looked at Mu Chi. “You—”

Her words caught in her throat as she glimpsed the scissors that had fallen from the woman’s right hand.

The handles of the scissors were wrapped in white hemp cloth, yellowed from frequent use.

She looked at the woman on the ground.

She had just tried to kill her.

“Why?” Qiao Wan murmured, bewildered.

Seeing her plan exposed, the woman clutched Qiao Wan’s skirt, ignoring her own wounded wrist, and pleaded hoarsely from the ground, her eyes filled with desperation. “Miss, please have mercy. We truly have nothing to burn or eat. My daughter is only five. I cannot bear to see her sold. She is only five…”

Qiao Wan stood frozen, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

She looked up. The villagers nearby were watching her—eyeing her silk clothes, the money pouch at her waist, and Mu Chi in the ox cart.

They dared not approach but hesitated, awaiting her reaction.

“Miss, I beg you…” The woman continued to plead, the snow and blood on the ground already mingling into a large stain.

Mu Chi was also watching her. If it were him, he would have left no one alive.

But… even though she now understood the ugliness of the world, he had watched her naive arrogance vanish completely during their journey north.

Yet, for some reason, he suddenly recalled the spirited young woman in Lingjing, dressed in fine silk and brandishing a gold-inlaid jade whip.

He, too, was waiting to see what she would do next.

Qiao Wan closed her eyes.

She knew these people were wary of Mu Chi.

She also knew what was on their minds.

If the woman had succeeded in killing her, they would have divided and stolen her silver.

If she showed mercy, trading a hand for silver was far better than risking their family's lives. Even if she refused, they would desperately rush forward.

But Qiao Wan clutched her money pouch tightly.

She could not save these people.

She also needed this money to reach Chuzhou.

“Miss…” The woman’s voice grew weaker.

Qiao Wan pressed her lips tightly together, then abruptly yanked her skirt free. “You just tried to kill me, and now you have the nerve to ask me for silver?”

Tears streamed from the woman’s eyes. “Miss, I will give you my life in return…”

Qiao Wan crouched before the woman, looking down at her with her most familiar, haughty demeanor. “Your life is worthless. If it were not for my brother, I would be the one lying on the ground begging right now.”

As she spoke, she disdainfully wiped the blood from her hands onto the woman’s clothes, then stood up and walked to the ox cart. Expressionless, she took the ox’s reins and moved forward.

The woman lay on the ground, clutching her wounded arm tightly, and said nothing more.

The villagers, seeing this, quickly retreated, clearing the path.

Once they had left the village, Qiao Wan boarded the ox cart, tightened the reins in a daze, and swayed onward.

Mu Chi watched her silent figure and, reminded of something, chuckled softly.

He never minded seeing innocence corrupted or the world turned into a living hell—in fact, he looked forward to it.

But when Qiao Wan slipped silver into the woman’s clothes while wiping her hands, he couldn't tell if he was disappointed or… relieved.

“Did you know that woman was going to try to kill me?” Qiao Wan suddenly asked.

The moment the woman’s scissors pressed against her chest, Mu Chi had acted, proving he had known the woman’s intentions all along.

Mu Chi looked at her for a long moment before scoffing. “Foolish kindness.”

Qiao Wan tightened her grip on the reins and turned to him. “At least she and her daughter will not be separated.”

“Can you save her? Can you save everyone?” Mu Chi seemed intent on shattering all her illusions. “You couldn’t even save those villagers. They would kill you for money in an instant.”

“Not everyone is evil. Old Mad isn’t,” Qiao Wan retorted, pursing her lips. “And that child in Pingyang Town the other day…”

Mu Chi glanced at her with a mocking smile, his eyes charming yet cruel, his voice gentle. “Do you really think it was a coincidence that your whereabouts were exposed that night?”

“No…” Qiao Wan instinctively refuted, but the next moment, she thought of something, and the color drained from her face.

The only ones who had seen her and Mu Chi were the little boy in Pingyang Town to whom she had given a few plain buns, as well as a couple of villagers and Old Mad from Canghe Village.

The wanted poster had just been posted. Old Mad had never left his earthen house, and Canghe Village was half a day’s journey from Pingyang Town. The villagers who had seen her and Mu Chi couldn’t possibly have seen that wanted poster.

Only that little boy.

He had seen her, and he had seen Mu Chi. Even the direction he had left in was the same direction where the wanted poster had been posted.

A reward of a thousand taels of gold.

Compared to two strangers, the choice was obvious.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly rose in Qiao Wan’s heart. She turned her head and quietly urged the ox cart forward, saying nothing more.

After traveling for who knows how long, perhaps Heaven finally showed mercy—there was indeed a wayside inn in the next village ahead.

As she led the ox cart into the inn, Qiao Wan turned once more to look at Mu Chi inside the covered cart. His features were hidden in the gloom.

“If you become emperor, will you make it so these people can’t even afford firewood?” she asked.

Mu Chi looked at her for a long time before letting out a low laugh. “Your Highness flatters me.”

But his lowered eyes held an indifference, as if it had nothing to do with him.

He reveled in chaos. What did these people have to do with him?

*

The village inn was simple, yet it had two floors: the first for dining, the second for lodging.

Though it was called a dining area, all it offered was plain noodles, and at an outrageously expensive price.

Mu Chi leaned against the bed, looking at the bowl of plain noodles the innkeeper had brought to the table, untouched.

After some time, the cries of a few birds came from outside the window, sounding particularly shrill in the desolate, cold night.

Mu Chi walked calmly to the window, watching a carrier pigeon fly across the night sky. He lightly pushed off, and in an instant, he had flown out and returned, holding the same pigeon in his hand.

Mu Chi removed the message tube tied to its leg.

Si Li’s handwriting:

Chuzhou, Mu Residence.

Mu Chi calmly tore the letter to shreds. It seemed that after Si Li returned to Yanming Mountain and failed to find any trace of him, he had gone to the Mu Residence in Chuzhou to wait for him.

He paused for a moment, then turned to look at the carrier pigeon beside him, its round eyes fixed on him.

Mu Chi couldn’t help but frown. Somehow, the pigeon’s eyes reminded him of Qiao Wan next door.

“Miss, miss?” The innkeeper’s loud calls suddenly came from outside the door.

Mu Chi snapped out of his thoughts, sent a reply, and released the pigeon. He listened carefully for any movement next door, but no one answered.

He paused for a moment, then got up and opened the door.

The innkeeper, holding a bowl of plain noodles, turned at the sound, his face full of apology. “Did I wake you, young master? It’s just that this young lady earlier ordered two bowls of noodles—one was delivered to you, but no one has responded for this bowl meant for her, and it’s almost cold. Perhaps you, young master…”

Mu Chi glanced at Qiao Wan’s tightly shut door, then after a long moment, nodded. “Give it to me.”

Qiao Wan had collapsed onto the bed as soon as she returned to her room. Despite spending the previous nights in a cave without falling ill, her body now felt unusually weak for some reason.

Her head was heavy and foggy, her vision flickering between light and dark. It felt as though countless heavy stones were pressing down on her, weighing her down with exhaustion.

She had a nightmare.

She dreamed of all she had seen and heard these past few days—the little boy who had just been blushing shyly at her one moment, then in the next, transformed into a different person, sinisterly choking her.

She also dreamed of the woman holding a five-year-old girl in her arms, blood dripping endlessly from the hole in her wrist. “Kill me, just kill me…”

Finally, she dreamed of the villagers freezing to death in that bleak winter.

“Qiao Wan.” Someone called her name in a low voice by her ear.

Qiao Wan took a deep breath as if saved, abruptly opening her eyes. Dizziness washed over her, the stifling heat in her chest and the burning fever on her forehead tormenting her consciousness.

Before the bed stood a familiar, tall figure, overlapping with the shadowy form that had choked her in her dream.

It swayed and blurred into double images.

Only then did she belatedly realize that she had a fever.

Qiao Wan turned her head toward the figure. “There’s still some silver left in the money pouch. Take half and go on with the ox cart yourself. I can’t take you any further.”

At that, she paused for a few breaths, as if she wanted to say more, but in the end, she only said, “Don’t die.” Then, exhausted, she closed her eyes, waiting for the headache to pass.

Mu Chi remained standing by the bed.

Indeed, taking Qiao Wan along now would only be a burden. Besides, his injuries had mostly healed—he no longer needed her.

He had said it himself: if he were her, he wouldn’t care whether she lived or died.

With a calm expression, Mu Chi turned and left without taking her money pouch, heading straight for the door.

The door opened and closed, and the room returned to dead silence.

Qiao Wan pressed her lips tightly together, not making a sound.

Perhaps weakened by illness, she found herself thinking back inappropriately to the gentle Mu Chi she had once admired.

Another wave of dizziness hit her. Qiao Wan furrowed her brow, her consciousness beginning to drift.

She thought, tomorrow she would hire someone to deliver her token to the nearest county office. Qiao Heng’s men would probably find her soon…

After all, it was almost the fifteenth day of the month again.

But the next moment, the door was violently thrown open once more.

Qiao Wan only faintly heard some noise, too tired to open her eyes and see.

After some time, a drop of something cold, carrying the metallic scent of blood, dripped onto the corner of her lips, moistening her parched mouth.

Qiao Wan instinctively licked it and found it unexpectedly soothing. She reached out and grabbed whatever it was, bringing it to her lips and taking a hard suck.

By her ear, a voice tinged with reluctance and anger, twisted between clenched teeth into a strangely gentle tone:

“Even if you go back, you’ll only become a medicine puppet.”

“You can stay for now, but don’t hope for anything more.”

Author's Note:

Wan Wan: Even if you begged me, I wouldn’t stay 🙂