Chapter 43 On the Road

Chapter 43: On the Road

Arriving at Sixth Aunt Song’s place in town, they first had to tidy up. Surprisingly, Lyu Shi had lost some weight in just a few days. She didn’t make a big deal about seeing them and even exchanged a few words with Sixth Aunt Song.

Chang Jinhua stayed to go over shop stuff with Sixth Aunt Song and her family. Song Tingzhou and Meng Wan, after learning their lesson from last time they rented, didn’t rashly seek out a carriage rental themselves. Instead, they headed to the bookstore to ask Shopkeeper Huang.

Shopkeeper Huang figured they’d head to the prefectural capital early for exam preparation after the breakfast shop closed, so he wasn’t surprised.

“If Young Master Meng hadn’t stopped by today, I would have sought you out myself.”

Meng Wan asked, surprised, “What does Shopkeeper Huang mean?”

Shopkeeper Huang waved over his second son, who looked all eager and antsy. “My second son, Huang Zheng, still needs tempering. Turns out, there’s a bookstore owner in Changping Prefecture who’s an old buddy of mine. I want Er Lang to get some experience working for him. My wife’s worried about him traveling alone, and Scholar Song and Young Master Meng are steady folks. So, how about you all travel together?”

Meng Wan was totally on board. If Song Tingzhou and he were squished in one carriage with Chang Jinhua, it’d look bad. This way, two per carriage is way more comfortable.

“That’d be great, but I feel like we’re mooching off Shopkeeper Huang.”

Shopkeeper Huang laughed. “I just hope you don’t think my son’s too clumsy.”

“Not at all.”

After they traded polite small talk, Shopkeeper Huang said he’d handle the carriage rental. They’d meet at the bookstore entrance tomorrow morning to head out.

With that big thing taken care of, only little odds and ends were left.

They went to the fabric store and bought a pair of plain shoes that fit Meng Wan. The price wasn’t bad—twenty-five coins—and the soles were stitched way finer than anything Meng Wan could do.

These weren’t out front; they were kept in a little storage room. Meng Wan also grabbed two small quilts made from scrap cloth, each at least two jin heavy. At a hundred eighty coins each, he bought two, and the shopkeeper tossed in two handkerchiefs.

Leaving the fabric store, the two walked down the street.

“We’ve got flint and water skins. Tomorrow morning, we’ll bake some dry flatbread to take. That’s all, right?” Meng Wan looked up at Song Tingzhou.

Song Tingzhou said, “Yeah, that’s about it.”

“How’d you get to the prefectural capital before?” Meng Wan asked curiously.

Song Tingzhou didn’t hold back. “Back then, to save money, I’d rent a carriage with classmates, and we’d split an inn when we got there.”

The town’s private school had hardly any rich kids; most were regular folks. Even if they weren’t broke, they pinched pennies where they could. A few, like Song Tingzhou, were from the countryside, even poorer than his family.

Meng Wan raised an eyebrow. “That Zhang Jizu guy?”

Song Tingzhou nodded. “Most scholars are standoffish, but he’s the best at working the room in school. He was really friendly to me. I used to worry about everyday stuff messing with my exams, so I let him handle everything—carriage rentals and inn bookings in the prefectural capital.”

“You really trusted him, huh.” In this world, his situation made him extra wary, but even in his old world, he wouldn’t automatically think the worst of people.

“I didn’t have many close friends at school; he was one.” Truth was, Song Tingzhou only had this one friend; the rest were just people he knew.

He’d started the private school early. As a kid, he really wanted a kindred spirit. Zhang Jizu was super understanding, and for a while after losing his dad, Song Tingzhou really saw him as a soulmate, telling him everything until early this year…

“What are you staring at me for?” Meng Wan asked, puzzled.

Song Tingzhou looked away from Meng Wan’s face and dropped his eyes. “Why don’t you wear those ink spots on your face anymore?”

Meng Wan touched his fair, smooth skin. “After the County Magistrate’s son left, I stopped. Not many in town are that depraved.” Plus, smearing ink all over was a pain—sometimes he’d forget and wipe it, leaving black streaks, and sweat made it run, which was annoying.

They’d just come from the fabric store, where the storage room was dustier than the front. A few soft cotton fibers stuck to Meng Wan’s hands. When he touched his face, the fibers clung to his cheek.

Song Tingzhou instinctively reached out. His lean, strong hand stopped by Meng Wan’s face, fingertips a bit calloused, just hanging there and somehow making his cheeks go red.

“What is it?” Meng Wan stared at him, his face reddening from the warmth of Song Tingzhou’s palm.

Song Tingzhou pinched the fiber between his thumb and finger. “There’s a thread on your face…”

Their eyes met without thinking, each seeing themselves in the other’s gaze—one handsome and lively, the other pretty as a painting.

“We should head back.”

Meng Wan looked away first, glancing at the sky, the ground, his eyes darting around awkwardly.

Song Tingzhou stepped back two steps. “Okay.”

That tiny fiber, held in his palm, scratched at his heart, making it itch.

The two small quilts were hung in the yard to air. Back inside, they told Chang Jinhua about Boss Huang’s son traveling with them.

“Da Lang will share a carriage with him. Should we reimburse him some money?” Chang Jinhua worried that Shopkeeper Huang might think they were taking advantage.

Meng Wan watched Man Geer kneading dough and replied, “They probably don’t care about a little money. Shopkeeper Huang has always been kind to me and my cousin. Since we’ll all be in the prefectural capital, we can look out for Huang Zheng when needed.”

All the shop-opening matters were settled. That evening, with too little space to sleep, Huiniang took the initiative to bring a key.

“I know you’re cramped. My mother-in-law told me to open the west wing. It hasn’t been used for a few days, but with some fire in the stove, it’ll do for one night.”

Meng Wan glanced at her in surprise, and Huiniang smiled back.

“Thank you, Aunt and Sister-in-law.”

The next morning, when Meng Wan woke, Sixth Aunt Song’s family of three was already bustling about. Their first day open was naturally a bit hectic. After washing up, Chang Jinhua even helped out for a while.

As the sun rose, golden light spilled over the town’s streets. The three of them—Song family—each shouldered their packs. Just before leaving, Meng Wan remembered something and called to Man Geer in the yard, “Around midday every day, a woman in her thirties will come to buy fried dough and tofu pudding. Remember to save five or six sticks of fried dough and two bowls of tofu pudding for her.”

“Alright, I’ll remember. Wan Geer, Aunt, Da Lang, travel safely.”

At the bookstore entrance, they boarded the carriage and paid a deposit to the driver. The rental fee was nine hundred fifty coins per carriage. Meng Wan and Huang Zheng each paid a deposit of one hundred fifty coins.

With two people per carriage, it was much more spacious, and the carriage was far more comfortable and steady than an oxcart.

It was Chang Jinhua’s first long trip. Initially, she was nervous and curious, but by the second day, she was wilted, huddled in the carriage, dizzy and nauseous at every movement. Meng Wan was dumbfounded—they had prepared everything except for her motion sickness.

Meng Wan knew nothing about medical remedies, only vaguely recalling someone saying ginger slices or orange peel could help with motion sickness.

“Aunt, bear with it a bit longer. When we pass a town in a few days, I’ll buy you some ginger,” Meng Wan said, helping her drink water from the water skin. Chang Jinhua leaned back against the carriage and lay down again.

At night, they slept on bundles of clothes used as pillows. The two drivers took turns keeping watch. They ate their own dried provisions, mostly flatbread.

The drivers would find water sources or stop at villages to refill their water skins from villagers. During the day, they traveled nonstop.

After a few days, they bought ginger for Chang Jinhua, easing her dizziness, but Meng Wan also grew weary. Wrapped in the small quilts with Chang Jinhua in the carriage, the cold still seeped in from all sides. At times like this, he longed for modern cars—even a Wuling Hongguang would be a super luxury vehicle in his eyes now.

The carriage moved at a moderate pace; the horses needed rest, so constant galloping was impossible.

Chang Jinhua and he leaned against each other in the carriage, only their heads poking out from the quilts, too tired to speak, their faces blank and eyes numb.

Lost in a daze, the carriage suddenly jolted, as if hitting something. The horses’ hooves clattered chaotically, followed by a loud shout from outside: “Stop! Everyone get out!”

Meng Wan sat up with a start. This was bad—they’d run into bandits.

He reacted quickly, immediately opening the basket at his feet, taking out a box of indigo he had bought at great expense, and using a few chicken feathers dipped in eyebrow powder to rapidly dot freckles on his face—this was his newly devised method, as indigo was more convenient than ink and less likely to smudge.

Then he pulled out the hairpin he had been wearing and twisted his hair into a low bun.

Chang Jinhua, dazed and confused, said, "Wan'er, what’s wrong? What are you doing?"

Meng Wan lowered his voice, "Aunt, listen, don’t be scared. I think there are bandits outside."

It took a moment for Chang Jinhua to process it. "What? Bandits?"

"Hey, big sis, keep it down!" the coachman’s hushed voice came through the curtain.

He stammered, "You all, don’t come out yet, and don’t be afraid. It’s just that the carriage ahead of us has been robbed. That one looks like a rich family’s fine carriage. These bandits are probably after that one. Our beat-up cart might slide by unnoticed."

Meng Wan relaxed a little, but the next second a gruff voice bellowed, "Didn’t you hear me? Everyone get out!"

The curtain was yanked open from outside, and his heart dropped. Song Tingzhou’s handsome face wore a calm expression, but his gaze toward Meng Wan was gentle and resolute.

"Wan'er, help Mom down."

Meng Wan exchanged a glance with him, steadying his racing heart, and helped Chang Jinhua out of the carriage.

Outside stood two burly men with knives, and about thirty feet ahead, there were even more armed men—over twenty in total.

These twenty or so men surrounded three carriages. Though the carriages looked plain, their axles were tall, compartments spacious, and the wood thick and sturdy.

They were nothing like the two carts Meng Wan rented—in short, they looked like easy marks.

Their two carts had old horses, and the compartments didn’t even have doors, just thick cloth curtains.

Besides the two drivers, the four of them were dressed as plainly as possible. Chang Jinhua’s worn cuffs were patched with a different colored coarse cloth, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou wore dark, coarse garments, and even Huang Zheng was in similarly old clothes—in short, as shabby as it gets.

Seeing them all get out, the two armed bandits still weren’t satisfied. They searched the carriages before sizing up the four of them, looking at them with pure disgust.

"Where you all headed?"

The two drivers huddled together, not saying a word. With guys like that, one wrong word and you'd get your throat cut.

Huang Zheng, who was all hyped to go out and make a name for himself, now looked pale as a ghost, filled with regret. Compared to this, Quanshui Town felt like heaven.

Only Song Tingzhou had the guts to step up and talk. He shielded Chang Jinhua and Meng Wan behind him and said in a steady voice, "I'm a scholar from Guwen County. The prefectural exam's coming up, and I'm bringing my mom, my husband, and my cousin to the city to take the test."

One of the bandits furrowed his brow. "A scholar? Heading to the city for the exam this early?"

Most examinees in previous years, to save money, wouldn’t leave too early—staying in the city was expensive, with food and lodging costing a fortune.

Song Tingzhou bowed a little, acting real humble. "There’s a book trunk in the rear carriage with all my books. If you don’t believe me, you can check."

The bandit said impatiently, "Who's got time for your crappy books? Throw all your money bags on the ground, strip the carts, and I’m taking the horses. As for the women and the kid..."

Another bandit directly yanked Meng Wan out, frowning as he examined him. "He's ugly, but his body's okay. We'll take him back for the boys to have some fun with."

A xiaoge's build is different from a man's—unless extremely rare cases where one is as strong as a man, the rest are generally more delicate. Even if the pregnancy mark is hidden, they can be recognized at a glance (imagine how the audience identifies them—the bone structure is different).

Song Tingzhou gripped Meng Wan’s other arm tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand. "Boss, my husband's too ugly to look at; it would only offend your eyes. Take our money and books, just leave us alone."

The bandit sneered. "An ugly wife like that, and you're this protective? Who wants your damn books? Let go, or I'll chop your arm off!"

With life on the line, no one dared to joke. Seeing that the bandits only wanted money and the xiaoge, the two drivers felt they could escape this ordeal—losing the horses was nothing compared to losing their lives.

Afraid that Song Tingzhou would drag them into it, the drivers whispered, "Scholar Lang, just let him go. We won’t charge you the rental fee. You can find another wife; take your mom and run!"

Meng Wan’s body trembled, his face pale as death. If he were truly taken to the mountain stronghold and toyed with by a gang of bandits, death would be the best outcome. More likely, he’d become an object for their desires, then tortured and killed.

At that moment, not only Huang Zheng regretted his choices, but Meng Wan also thought: if he hadn’t come with Song Tingzhou, and Song Tingzhou had gone to the city with his classmates, would they have avoided the bandits?

No, dwelling on what-ifs was useless. He needed to think of how to save himself. He couldn’t let Song Tingzhou provoke these bandits. Better to pretend to comply first and look for an opportunity.

Meng Wan closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a trace of resolve appeared. "Cous—"

"Don’t speak."

Song Tingzhou seemed to have made a decision. He pulled Meng Wan even harder behind him. "Mom, you all run."

Before the bandit could react, he kicked him squarely in the waist and abdomen.

It all happened in a flash. The bandit hadn’t expected the scholar to resist, stumbled back from the kick, then turned and raised his knife. "You're asking for death!"

But from a distance came an even louder roar: "Brothers, charge in!"