Chapter 79: Pursuit (III)

Chapter 79: Pursuit (III)

Pei Mingqi, strolling the capital's main avenue, had once entertained such thoughts.

Now, Pei Mingqi—who had tended his little red sandalwood burner for four years, who had brought the elderly couple surnamed Song to the frontier to care for them—had long outgrown those foolish, muddled fancies.

He said softly, "I don't hate you one bit. I'm a lot older than you now, and I wish for you to live a long life—that's why I can't take you along."

Le Wuya went quiet.

When his coughing subsided, he leaned against him, listening to the heart thundering in the chest against him. He thought it was funny, so he reached out and poked his chest: "Hey, your heart's pounding way too loud. If we get caught, it's totally on you."

Pei Mingqi didn't reply. He looked down at him, asking, "Are you... him now?"

Le Wuya steadied himself and decided to answer.

The sky stretched wide, the mountains rolled on, the wind bent the grass low—just the two of them.

Who knew if the next second, a cleaver might come swinging down on their heads?

Even if they died, they should die knowing the truth.

But before Le Wuya could get a word out, Pei Mingqi cut him off.

"Don't say anything." Pei Mingqi pressed the back of his head, drawing him back to his chest. "Just hold me a little longer."

Even if he had truly become that person, so what?

Between them, aside from everything else, their lifespans alone no longer aligned.

Pei Mingqi's hug held that familiar strength: "A while back, I sent your dad a pound of gynostemma tea—it's good for the lungs and clears phlegm. Your dad should like it."

Gynostemma was rare and costly, of course.

The first thought that hit Le Wuya was so absurd he had to laugh at himself.

—Which dad?

The Jing tribe father, whom he'd never met, had died long ago.

The father in the capital—counting his life and death—he hadn't been back to that home in eight full years.

Ah, so it must be the Wen Ren father down in Jiangnan.

"General Pei, you're too generous," Le Wuya said. "But what's the occasion for this gift?"

"For raising you so well," Pei Mingqi said with utter confidence. "Isn't that reason enough?"

His little crow had taken over Wen Ren Yue's body, so as the culprit, he should take care of Wen Ren Yue's father in his old age.

It was his duty.

Le Wuya caught the meaning underneath his words:

He's General Dingyuan, Pei Mingqi, and I'm Wen Ren Yue, the Nanting magistrate.

That's what they were to each other now.

Le Wuya pulled back from the hug, solemn: "This humble official... is deeply grateful."

The two sat in silence, when a faint, low sound came from behind them—like a mushroom being squashed underfoot.

Le Wuya and Pei Mingqi shot each other a quick look.

Pei Mingqi held his breath, eyes shut.

A moment later, he held up three fingers.

Three figures fanned out as they approached together.

Le Wuya and Pei Mingqi locked eyes, like a silent high-five.

Then Le Wuya covered his mouth and let out a muffled, cowering wheeze—like a small animal, or maybe a person.

...The sound was enough to draw them closer, but vague enough that they couldn't tell if it was animal or human, so they wouldn't call out and tip off the others.

Pei Mingqi gripped his sword, sliding the blade out inch by silent inch.

Le Wuya, meanwhile, tightened his grip on the white waxwood arrow shaft.

As a shadow from one side crept closer, Le Wuya judged the distance, darted out at an angle, and drove the arrow cleanly into his throat.

Then he caught the man's slumping body, held it up as a shield, and backed away fast.

As expected, this man was the scout. Another raised his cleaver, ready to strike at whatever might emerge from behind the trees.

But instead, he watched helplessly as a bloody hole was punched through his companion's neck.

In his shock and fury, he forgot to shout, and raised his cleaver to strike—

...But there was no one to be seen.

The corpse, meanwhile, was held in the arms of the one hidden behind the tree, used as a meat shield.

Le Wuya's exquisite malice was on full display in this moment:

Those who traveled together at night were most often kin or clansmen.

He gambled that this man could not bring himself to chop at the corpse.

He only needed to buy himself a single moment of hesitation from the man before him.

That was all he needed.

Before Le Wuya made his move, a third man had been circling around from the right side of the tree.

Each of the three had their role—it was a solid formation that had won countless battles.

But unexpectedly, the scout on the left was struck down in an instant, and the one who should have been coordinating from the center stood frozen, cleaver in hand.

The third man saw the situation was dire and was about to cry out, when Pei Mingqi emerged from behind the tree in time. With a flick of his right thumb, he reversed the half-drawn sword into his left hand, gripped the scabbard in his right, and struck head-on!

The blunt, heavy sharkskin scabbard slammed into his throat.

The third man did not make a single sound. His throat bones shattered, and with a thud, he crumpled to the ground.

Pei Mingqi drew his sword with his left hand, fluid as flowing water, and in one stroke slashed across the back of the man who stood frozen, cleaver in hand.

Le Wuya cautiously watched the scene from behind the corpse's shoulder. Seeing the man's cleaver drop to the ground, he kicked it away, lunged forward, grabbed a rock, and shoved it directly into the man's mouth, sealing off any last chance of calling for help. He then snatched the bamboo whistle from the man's waist—used for signaling—and tucked it into his own clothes. He asked tersely: "Is he dead yet?"

Pei Mingqi gave each body a finishing stab before replying, "They're all dead."

Having finished this clean job, it was time to retreat.

Pei Mingqi hastily wiped the blood off his sword hilt with the coarse hemp clothing of the corpses to prevent slipping. Seeing that Le Wuya was still bent over, persistently searching the corpses' waists, he poked him in the back: "Hey, we've made quite a racket. Let's go, time to move."

Le Wuya didn't look up: "Wait."

Pei Mingqi grew anxious: "What else are you looking for? I'll help you—"

Le Wuya suddenly broke into a brilliant smile.

He held up a rice cake wrapped in bamboo leaves, still warm, and under the moonlight and bamboo shadows, his eyes were clear and bright as stars: "Found it!"

Pei Mingqi's heart, which he thought had settled into stillness, began to race out of rhythm again.

Seeing him staring blankly, Le Wuya wrapped the rice cake properly and pressed it into his arms: "Come on, let's go."

Le Wuya initially considered stripping the corpses' clothes to blend into the search party, but after a moment's thought, he realized it wouldn't work.

Their garments were splattered with blood, too eye-catching to wear.

Only the third man's clothes were relatively clean and roughly fit Pei Mingqi's tall build.

But just as Le Wuya had used his quick wit earlier, using the mountain folk's mutual familiarity to buy a moment's respite, most of those involved in the mountain search were from Yin Family Village. They all knew each other by sight; a sudden unfamiliar face would be hard to pass off as one of them.

With that in mind, Le Wuya abandoned the idea and moved forward through the woods with Pei Mingqi, blazing a trail to escape.

Pei Mingqi swept aside obstructing branches while making small talk: "Watch the road. What are you thinking about?"

"Mulling over serious matters," Le Wuya said, head bowed in thought. "Hey, tell me—this massacre happened in Yin Family Village, and the village is so remote. They could've just kept it among themselves. Why make a fuss and go all the way to Xingtai to report it?"

Pei Mingqi was about to answer when Le Wuya slapped his forehead: "...Oh, right, I forgot—I mistook you for Shou Yue."

Then he grew worried again: "I hope Shou Yue is okay."

Pei Mingqi took a moment to recall who "Shou Yue" was.

The next instant, a wave of sourness rose in his throat.

Where did this little scholar pop up from? Worth him calling "Shou Yue, Shou Yue" endlessly?

He hung his head sullenly and said, "The poor in the city are ignored; the rich in the mountains have kin from afar."

Le Wuya: "What?"

Pei Mingqi: "There are people living at the foot of the mountain below the village. After the Yin family struck it rich, peddlers often came up the mountain to sell goods. On the morning of the massacre, a peddler carrying dates up the mountain saw the Yin family's door wide open. Blood was pooling on the ground. He ran down and bumped into the Penal Clerk from Xi Township, who was riding home from a family visit on the main road. After the peddler led him up to see, he realized how serious it was and galloped to Xingtai town to beat the drum and report it."

Le Wuya suddenly understood: "Ah."

So that was it.

Given how strictly Xingtai was governed, the officials of Xi Township must have deeply resented the standout Shao Hongzhen.

Having finally found a handle on Xingtai, they naturally wouldn't let it slide.

Otherwise, why would the Xi Township penal office make such a public show of beating the drum and reporting? They could've slipped in quietly and informed someone discreetly, without causing public panic.

Looking at it this way, it was truly a case of evil begetting evil.

Shao Hongzhen, through his illicit business, had made Xingtai thrive, drawing envy and cold looks. Once they had something on him, they'd stop at nothing to destroy him.

Little did they expect that by a twist of fate, it would lead to a case warranting the extermination of three clans.

"...Does Shou Yue know about all this?" After finishing the serious talk, Pei Mingqi turned his face away. "Go ask your precious Shou Yue."

Le Wuya caught on and leaned in, grinning mischievously: "You mad?"

Pei Mingqi scowled, looking thoroughly annoyed: "Watch where you're going!"

But their luck that night had finally run out.

They'd just rounded a bush when they came face-to-face with a group of mountain folk searching for them.

Pei Mingqi was quick-witted, catching the murderous look in their eyes, and grabbed Le Wuya and turned to run.

As for Le Wuya, after that brief rest, he had enough strength to flee.

The two ran side by side through the woods, low shrub leaves scraping painfully against their faces.

But they had no time to worry about that.

These mountain folk, though untrained in combat, had numbers on their side and knew the terrain and climate intimately. Having no money for shoes and their straw sandals wearing out easily, they'd gone barefoot, and over time their calluses had hardened like iron, letting them bound through the mountains like wild beasts, unimpeded.

As the encirclement tightened and Le Wuya's pace slowed from his initial sprint, his breathing growing labored and pained, Pei Mingqi knew they couldn't go on like this.

He shoved Le Wuya hard on the shoulder: "Run!"

With that, he stopped, turned back, drew his sword to guard behind Le Wuya, and faced the dozen or so rough mountain folk closing in alone.

Pei Mingqi knew full well that a lone commander against ten—ten savages hell-bent on taking their lives—was far too much to ask.

The moment he turned his back, he knew it was certain death.

He wanted to say something to Le Wuya, but he'd always been clumsy with words and didn't know what to say to please him.

So he shouted something rather absurd: "Watch the road!"

If he stumbled and got hurt, he'd die uneasy.

The pursuers ahead slowed their steps, seemingly ready to face him off.

But the footsteps behind him also stopped.

Le Wuya hadn't run—he'd backed up step by step until his back pressed against Pei Mingqi's.

Pei Mingqi's heart burned with anxiety as he moved to shove him away, but caught a flicker of firelight from behind in his peripheral vision.

The mountain folk charging ferociously also halted.

In the firelight cast from behind, their faces shone with awe and reverence.

And Le Wuya straightened his tilted hairpin, facing the approaching visitors with utmost solemnity.

Shao Hongzhen stood at the front, holding a torch.

Under the moonlight, his bearing was as sharp as a sword. He adjusted his glasses lightly and sighed: "Magistrate Wenren, why must you come here?"