Chapter 44 Bandits

Chapter 44: Highwaymen

It turned out the front carriage was already in chaos, with the family guards inside protecting a figure in a white robe, dead set on fighting their way out of the bandits' ring.

The outer bandits, seeing they'd hit a tough target, weren't about to back off. They'd finally hit a rich mark—if this job paid off, the boys could eat and drink like kings for three years.

The two sides fought fiercely, and in an instant, blades were already drawing blood. These family guards, not hardened killers used to living on the edge, started to lose their nerve at the first sight of blood, and the bandits picked them off one after another.

Just as this group was about to be wiped out by the bandits, another group came charging down the mountain path. They were simply dressed, moving quick and light on their feet. Some had knives, some had swords, and others just raw strength, each with their own skills, taking on three guys at once.

Someone shouted, "Charge in!"

That got their blood pumping, and in moments, they sent the bandits running.

Among the bandits, a big guy, close to eight feet tall, who looked like the leader, was beat up and bleeding from several wounds. He had no choice but to beg, "Which crew are you boys from? If you've got your eye on this fat prize, I'll hand it over, no hard feelings. We're all under Boss Liu of Yazishan—go easy on us, brothers!"

He shouted twice, but other than getting a few more cuts, he got no response. The leader's gut told him these guys were probably roving bandits who preyed on their own kind. If they stuck around, they'd be done for today!

Grinding his teeth, he fought as he backed away. As the remaining men kept clashing, he mounted a horse and fled, leaving over twenty of his own men behind.

The remaining bandits, seeing the tide turn, either fled or died, soon scattered to the wind.

"Is that you? Surnamed Ge?"

A sharp voice rang out from behind the carriage. Fang Jinrong crawled out from underneath it, his once-clean white robe now covered in dust and grime.

The man who turned at his voice was none other than Ge Quan, who had shared the Lü family's side room with Meng Wan and the others. Wiping blood off his face, he cupped his hands in greeting to his buddies and, as they ribbed him, walked toward Fang Jinrong.

"Master Fang, it's me."

—

On the other side, Meng Wan saw Song Tingzhou kick the bandit back and, without thinking twice, immediately ordered Huang Zheng, "Quick, get my aunt out of here! Head for the tall grass or hide in a ditch! Hurry!"

Song Tingzhou bought them that chance by risking his neck. Huang Zheng, still having a shred of conscience, gritted his teeth, hoisted the dazed Chang Jinhua onto his back, and took off running.

The other bandit was about to draw his blade to help his comrade when he glanced back and saw their leader mount a horse and flee after a few exchanges.

Seeing the situation turn dire, the once-fierce bandits turned into lambs for the slaughter. This bandit gave up on helping his buddy, ran to a tree, untied a horse, and took off without even yelling to his buddy.

With the bandits gone, the two terrified coachmen, afraid the carriage was too big a target and couldn't unhitch the compartment fast enough, just ditched the wagon and snuck off.

But Meng Wan, Song Tingzhou, and that bandit had no clue what was happening around them. The bandit's moves were lethal; Song Tingzhou might have been braver than most, but these bandits were seasoned in killing and robbing, way more experienced in a fight. How could Song Tingzhou keep up?

Seeing a gash open on Song Tingzhou's arm, Meng Wan's heart raced. He picked up a stick no thicker than a finger from the ground and struck the bandit's back with all his might, halting his next move. But the thin stick snapped instantly, and the blow felt no more than a tickle to the bandit.

The bandit, already bloodthirsty after failing to kill Song Tingzhou with several swings, now saw Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou as good as dead. Unarmed, Song Tingzhou could still trade blows, but with his buddy nearby, a few more strikes would finish him.

"Bastard, since you're in such a hurry, I'll deal with you first."

Seeing Meng Wan resist, the bandit turned to strike him. Song Tingzhou seized the moment, punching the bandit's neck as he turned, his injured right hand gripping the bandit's knife-wielding arm to keep him from harming Meng Wan.

The bandit rolled on the ground, landing heavily on Song Tingzhou. Meng Wan could almost hear the crack of bones.

Song Tingzhou let out a muffled groan, but his grip didn't loosen. His hands and legs locked the bandit in place, his teeth clenched with effort, unable to speak.

In a dire moment, every second counted. Meng Wan frantically searched for anything nearby that could serve as a weapon, finally finding a sharp-edged stone in the dry grass beneath him.

Without a thought, he lunged onto the bandit, pressing him down, and slammed the stone into his head. Blood spurted, but the bandit wasn't dead. Meng Wan was thrown back several steps by the brute force.

Seizing the chance, Song Tingzhou mustered his strength, wrested the knife from the bandit's hand, and turned to slash down!

The bandit beneath him convulsed twice and then lay still.

Meng Wan scrambled to his feet, his voice trembling. "Song Tingzhou, strike again—aim for the neck."

Song Tingzhou's sleeves were soaked in blood—both the bandit's and his own. At Meng Wan's words, he brought the knife down hard, nearly severing the bandit's head. Blood stained the dry yellow grass around them.

Kneeling, Song Tingzhou gasped for breath, the fierce struggle having drained every ounce of his strength.

Meng Wan, a few steps away, got up and quickly crouched beside him. "Song Tingzhou, how are you? Is your arm all right?"

Before he could finish, Song Tingzhou dropped the knife and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Wan'er, I'm fine. Don't worry, don't worry."

They held each other close. Song Tingzhou's words came fast, but his heart beat even faster.

Meng Wan froze for a moment, then buried his face in his broad chest.

Song Tingzhou... Song Tingzhou.

You risked your life for me—I will never let you down.

"Wan Ge'er? Is that you, Wan Ge'er?" A familiar voice called out. Song Tingzhou lowered his arm from Meng Wan's waist.

Meng Wan lifted his grimy face, streaked with white and black—tear stains, remnants of eyebrow pencil, and dust.

He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and saw two people approaching.

"Jinrong? Brother Ge? How is it you? Was the front carriage yours? Where did everyone go?"

Meng Wan's mind was full of questions.

Fang Jinrong said, "I was about to ask you the same. How did you end up here, and in such a state?"

Meng Wan sighed, and they exchanged stories.

It turned out that after Fang Jinrong's feigned death, Master Fang had hidden him away. Only when the dust settled did he secretly send him out of Quanshui Town.

Master Fang had a distant cousin married in Changping Prefecture. He planned to send his son there for two years, hoping the cousin could find him a good match in the city. If not, Master Fang would personally find a suitable young man farther away to marry Fang Jinrong off to. With some family wealth and a generous dowry, his son could still live well.

Who would have thought that Master Fang, unwilling to let his son live as a dependent, had loaded two carriages with valuables, only to catch the eye of bandits from a nearby mountain.

Thus, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou's ordeal was pure misfortune.

Fang Jinrong's eyes betrayed guilt, with two straws still stuck in his hair. He had crawled and scrambled under the carriage, no doubt suffering plenty.

Meng Wan smiled bitterly. "Our trouble is the bandits' fault, not yours. Today, it could have been anyone. We're lucky to have escaped alive. If not for Brother Ge's arrival, we'd all be dead."

Those bandits lived on the edge of a knife. Song Tingzhou had barely managed to kill one, exhausted. If that other bandit hadn't fled, the two of them would be lying on the ground now.

Ge Quan's eyes flickered. "I happened to pass by with some friends from the martial world. Hearing the sounds of battle, we came to help. Sorry we couldn't do more for you."

Meng Wan thought to himself: What a coincidence.

He looked at the two before him—one tall, one short, both handsome. One was innocent and carefree, a wealthy young master sheltered by his parents; the other came from the lowest rungs of society, a wanderer who had braved life and death with martial heroes.

Yet in that moment, Meng Wan caught a glimmer of affection in Ge Quan's gaze as he looked at Fang Jinrong—just a flash, but unmistakable.

At this moment, a weird thought popped into his head—he wanted to write them into a book. Wasn't this way more interesting than those stories about scholars and officials' daughters that Fang Jinrong liked?

Meng Wan shook his head. Had his inner liberal arts nerd awakened? How else could his mind go there?

Fang Jinrong had plenty of stuff, but his guards took heavy losses. On Meng Wan's side, they'd lost their mom and the driver had run off. They talked it over and decided to stick together—otherwise, Meng Wan and his crew wouldn't know how to handle the carriage.

Ge Quan spoke up: "If you don't mind, I'll see you through the next leg of the road."

With a seasoned traveler like him, they were more than happy to accept.

Just then, a donkey cart came rolling up slowly from the distance. Driving it was Ge Quan's master, Old Ge, with Chang Jinhua and Huang Zheng on board. They must've met on the road; Old Ge knew Chang Jinhua, and when he heard she was looking for her son, he gave her and Huang Zheng a ride.

From a distance, Chang Jinhua saw Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou were okay, and tears started streaming down her face. "What happened to your arm? Why's your sleeve all bloody?"

She stared at Song Tingzhou's bloody sleeve, shocked and scared.

Meng Wan quickly explained, "Most of the blood is from the bandit, but my cousin did get hurt."

He turned to the old hand Ge Quan for help. "Brother Ge, you got any medicine powder or strong booze? My cousin's wound needs tending."

Ge Quan pulled a bottle of medicine from a bag on the donkey cart. "I've got wound medicine, and my master's got some strong liquor."

Old Ge grudgingly fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a palm-sized jar of liquor, handing it to Meng Wan.

Meng Wan was really grateful. "Master Ge, don't worry, once we get to the prefectural city, I'll get you a good jar of liquor."

Old Ge chuckled from his donkey cart. "Now that'd be nice."

Huang Zheng helped Song Tingzhou into the carriage, and Meng Wan came over to clean the wound. To avoid being awkward, Huang Zheng sat outside chatting with the driver. After surviving this mess, he'd gotten some confidence back and was itching to brag. The driver, bored with the same old road, was happy to chat, and soon they were deep in conversation on the carriage shaft.

Song Tingzhou's clothes were torn, so Meng Wan just cut off the sleeve on his injured side. He first cleaned the blood around the wound with water, then poured strong liquor straight over it. The knife wound wasn't deep enough to show bone, but the flesh on both sides was split open.

Meng Wan focused hard as he poured the liquor over the wound. Before Song Tingzhou could react, Meng Wan's heart ached.

Song Tingzhou, already weak from blood loss, felt his whole side go numb. The strong liquor brought back a bone-deep agony.

He pressed his pale lips tight, his whole arm shaking uncontrollably, but he still tried to comfort Meng Wan, who looked like he might fall apart. "Wan'er, it's fine."

Meng Wan didn't buy it. The liquor was for disinfecting—how could it not hurt to pour it right on the wound? He took a deep breath, holding back the tears that were about to spill. "Let me change your clothes first, then put on the medicine Brother Ge gave us."

Liquor was splashed everywhere, and Song Tingzhou's clothes were still soaked in blood. He had to change them.

Song Tingzhou pressed his hand over Meng Wan's, which was on his waist. "No, it'd ruin your reputation."

Even now, he was still fussing over formalities!

Meng Wan turned to leave. "Then I'll get someone else to put the medicine on for you."

His hand was grabbed tight. Song Tingzhou used his good left hand to hold Meng Wan back. "Wan'er…"

Meng Wan pushed his hand away. "What would people think if they heard that? You'd better call me Wan Geer."

Song Tingzhou's left hand was too weak from pain to put up much of a fight. Meng Wan couldn't stand to let him really worry, so he let himself be pulled back, only to be drawn into Song Tingzhou's arms until he was leaning sideways against his chest.

Meng Wan lowered his head without a word, staring at the hand on his waist. He wanted to snap back at Song Tingzhou—wasn't this just as bad for his reputation?

"Do you think I don't want to be close to you?" Song Tingzhou's controlled voice came from above his head.

"So many times, I've wanted to…"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, but Meng Wan knew what the unfinished words meant. He got what Song Tingzhou was thinking.

His heart pounded like a drum. Meng Wan pinched his own palm. Stay calm—he had watched real, hardcore films before. How could he be flustered and blushing over such a reserved scholar?

"Alright, alright, I know you mean well. I'll call Huang Zheng in to help you change."

He had Huang Zheng come in to help Song Tingzhou change clothes, then rolled up his sleeve, applied the wound medicine, and wrapped it in cotton cloth.

"Huang Zheng, please look after my cousin on the road."

Before getting off the carriage, Meng Wan gave Huang Zheng these instructions, then joined Chang Jinhua in Fang Jinrong's carriage. Song Tingzhou's wound was deep, and he wouldn't rest easy until a doctor had seen it.

They couldn't linger here. The bandit leader who had escaped belonged to a mountain stronghold, and from the sound of it, it was no small operation. There was a good chance he would return with reinforcements.

After a brief reorganization, the Song family and Huang Zheng boarded Fang Jinrong's carriage. His family guards drove the two carriages Meng Wan had rented, bringing up the rear, while Old Ge's donkey cart followed as well.

Once inside the carriage, Chang Jinhua, exhausted from running around all day and worrying about Song Tingzhou and Meng Wan, soon fell asleep in the spacious cabin.

Meng Wan leaned against the carriage wall, feigning rest. He was constantly worried about Song Tingzhou's injury, afraid it might worsen.

Ge Quan led the way on horseback, occasionally riding close to the carriage. Fang Jinrong lifted the curtain on the window and asked him, "Why is your master driving the donkey cart alone? Why doesn't he ride with us?"

Ge Quan glanced back. The old man had run out of liquor and was lying on the donkey cart, chewing on a blade of grass.

"He prefers his donkey cart. Don't worry about him."

"Oh… Where did all your friends from the martial world go? Why did they disappear all of a sudden?" Fang Jinrong pressed on.

Ge Quan gently tugged the reins. "I don't know."

"Then how do you all gather?"

"By chance."

"By the way, what is the martial world? Is it fun?"

"Not fun."

"In the storybooks I read, heroes can fly! Can you fly? Show me!"

"Those storybooks are all nonsense. Without wings, how can a person fly?"

"Then…"