In the blink of an eye, seven or eight days had passed since that night of peril.
As they journeyed, wave after wave of assassins had come for them, yet Xiao Nanhui sensed that someone was secretly clearing the path. The closer they drew to Quecheng, the fewer the attempts became.
Upon entering the borders of Chizhou, the weather grew hotter by the day. Dense shade blanketed both sides of the road, and the air already carried the heavy scent of summer.
Xiao Nanhui was not accustomed to riding in a carriage. After a long duration, her back and waist would ache incessantly. She had pleaded with Bo Lao to let her ride Jixiang for a while, but Bo Lao was a cunning man; how could he possibly agree to share a carriage with that "Great Buddha" inside? He had cruelly refused her without leaving any room for negotiation.
Left with no choice, she could only endure it. As she suffered through the discomfort, they finally approached the outskirts of Quecheng.
This was much faster than she had anticipated. She remembered the journey out, when she and Bo Lao had ridden at a gallop without facing any ambushes or pursuits, yet they hadn't been much faster than this carriage.
Since childhood, she had spent much of her time in the military stables and had seen many of the famous steeds belonging to great generals. She could tell that the two horses pulling this carriage were anything but ordinary. Though they looked unremarkable on the outside, their pace, endurance, speed, and even their ability to judge the road surface were incomparable to average horses. Using them to pull a carriage was almost a waste of heaven-sent talent.
Xiao Nanhui had never seen this breed before and could only speculate that they were not bred in Chizhou.
She had once stealthily checked the horses' ears and rumps, and even surreptitiously lifted their hooves, but found no markings. Logically, it was normal for high-ranking officials in the Imperial City to possess a few good horses, but the finest steeds were always in the hands of those who fought wars.
Since when did the horses of the Prime Minister’s manor become so exquisite? Xiao Nanhui felt a flicker of confusion.
The faint sound of flowing water drifted through the carriage window—not the thunderous roar of the Hun River, but a crisp, melodic tinkling.
Xiao Nanhui jumped down from the carriage, knowing they were not far from Quecheng.
This stream flowed down from Shuxi Mountain. In the height of summer, many of the city's residents, young and old, would come to its banks to escape the heat and fish.
Having finally escaped the treacherous winds and clouds of Huozhou, the sight of this familiar scenery filled Xiao Nanhui with an indescribable joy. Once they replenished their water supply here, they could make the final push to Quecheng. If all went well, they might even make it back before the city gates closed.
At this thought, her steps grew light. Seeing Ding Weixiang unbuckling the empty waterskins, she stepped forward, intending to help him draw water. However, he acted as if she were invisible, walking right past her.
Bo Lao was scratching an itch for Jixiang. Witnessing this, he grunted, "A grown man, yet so petty. He certainly takes after Old Man Xie in that regard."
In truth, Xiao Nanhui had noticed Ding Weixiang’s dissatisfaction with her as far back as their departure from Muerhe. But since he always maintained a face of professional duty, she hadn't bothered to ask. Now, however, she could no longer bear it.
She followed him closely, trailing behind him like a lingering ghost.
"Brother Ding, why the cold shoulder? I don't believe I've offended you."
Ding Weixiang didn't stop. His face remained expressionless, having mastered about seventy or eighty percent of his master's "dead-man" look.
"Have I? Young Master Yao must be mistaken."
Mistaken? That face made it clear she wasn't mistaken at all!
Xiao Nanhui took a deep breath. "Since Muerhe, you've been acting strangely and picking a bone with me the whole way. We're almost at our destination now. If you're a man, let me die with a clear understanding of why."
Ding Weixiang had not, after all, perfected his master's "Faceless Art." He came to a sudden halt, tossed the waterskins by the stream, and looked at her with a grave expression. "Back at the Xiong residence, Master had already anticipated that the Imperial Seal might be a fake, yet he still chose to save your life. You should be filled with gratitude."
Xiao Nanhui blinked, thinking for a moment before realizing how long ago that was.
So it was because of that? But what was there to be angry about? Wait... he said Zhongli Jing knew the seal was fake all along?
"How did he know the seal was fake?"
Ding Weixiang choked for a moment, then said vaguely, "Master naturally knew. Do not change the subject. In short, you must remember this life-saving debt."
Xiao Nanhui was somewhat speechless. "By that logic, on the night at the Duso Bridge, I also risked my life to save him. He should remember my kindness as well."
Ding Weixiang’s face flushed red with stifled irritation. This was the second time she had seen this color on his face; it seemed that whenever his master was mentioned, this usually steady swordsman became very prone to losing control.
He seemed to be holding back half of what he wanted to say, but after a moment of silence, he only squeezed out two words: "Forget it." He turned away and crouched by the ground to draw water, seemingly intending to speak no further.
Xiao Nanhui was left standing there, feeling utterly baffled.
Was it because she had stayed in the military for too long that she could no longer understand the social graces of the outside world?
The more she thought about it, the more frustrated she felt. She kicked a smooth stone by the riverbank; it skipped several times across the surface of the stream before finally sinking with a *plop*.
Nearby, Jixiang was rooting around a tree base. Xiao Nanhui walked over, plucked a few mushrooms growing from the roots, and tossed them to the horse. As Jixiang wiggled its rear to forage, she noticed several clusters of wild raspberries growing beside the tree. They were currently in season and perfectly ripe.
She picked one and tasted it. For someone who hadn't tasted fresh fruit or vegetables in many days, the flavor was truly wonderful. She gathered the hem of her robe and picked a few more.
Bo Lao returned from wherever he had been wandering and, seeing this, lunged forward like a bandit to snatch them. Xiao Nanhui was clearly not a novice to such underhanded tactics; her reactions were lightning-fast as she leaped several yards away.
"If you want some, pick them yourself."
Bo Lao glanced at the brambles and then at his own small paws. He was clearly averse to the thorns on the bushes, but his mouth told a different story: "Look at you, getting so worked up over a few berries. You're acting like it's your life on the line. Those fruits are overripe; if you don't eat them now, they won't last half a day before they rot. You might as well give them to me..."
Xiao Nanhui turned her back and ignored him, thinking to herself: *I'd rather they rot on the ground than in your stomach.*
As she turned, her gaze happened to fall upon the carriage nearby.
The carriage was silent. Aside from the breeze occasionally lifting a corner of the window curtain, there wasn't a sound from within. Who would have thought someone was sitting inside?
That man didn't seem to like getting out to walk. Throughout the journey, the number of times he had stepped out of the carriage—aside from when absolutely necessary—could be counted on two hands.
Xiao Nanhui often felt perplexed. How could someone endure staying in such a small, cramped space for so long?
She wasn't usually one to meddle, but for some reason, she recalled how he had looked when he was ill, and a pang of pity touched her heart. After all, he had caught that chill because he saved her; she didn't even know if he had fully recovered yet.
Looking at the berries in her robe, she walked quickly to the carriage and knocked on the window frame.
A moment later, the indigo curtain was pulled back, revealing half of a face that was still somewhat pale. He didn't speak, only watched her quietly, as if waiting for her to explain her purpose.
She hesitated for a moment, then selected the plumpest, most vibrant berry from her stash and held it up before him.
Zhongli Jing’s dark pupils fixed on the fruit for a while before he spoke slowly.
"What is this?"
She lifted the berry a bit higher.
"Wild raspberries—*Penglei*. They're a kind of mountain fruit, and they're in season right now. Try one."
The man didn't move. He merely scrutinized the bright red berry as if assessing whether it was truly fit for consumption. For a moment, Xiao Nanhui thought he had turned into a statue.
Fine. He was likely used to a life of luxury; why would he eat some strange wild fruit from the mountains? She must have been driven to distraction by Bo Lao to even think of doing this.
Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, Zhongli Jing finally moved. His face slowly leaned forward, and the golden flecks of sunlight filtering through the trees danced across his features as the wind blew.
Xiao Nanhui froze.
He didn't use his hand to take it. Instead, he leaned in and took the berry directly from her fingertips with his mouth.
His movements were so elegant that her fingers touched neither his teeth nor his lips; at most, there was only the fleeting brush of his warm breath. But the sensation was still strange, and she instinctively pulled her hand back.
It all happened in an instant. By the time she reacted, Zhongli Jing’s face had already retreated back into the shadows of the carriage. He slowly savored the taste of the fruit, a trace of red juice staining his lips and lending a touch of vitality to his face.
Xiao Nanhui blinked, trying to break the eerie atmosphere. "Well? It tastes good, doesn't it?"
The man paused, then slowly uttered three words: "A bit sour."
"Sour? That can't be. I'm very good at picking fruit." Refusing to believe him, she picked out a few more from her robe. After tasting one herself to confirm, she handed the rest to him. "Try these."
The man in the shadows grew even more silent. His gaze shifted from the berries to her face, his eyes flickering with half-hidden shadows.
This wasn't the first time she had looked into those eyes, but every time, she failed to read the emotions within them. Sometimes she felt that those beautiful eyes might never have held any emotion at all.
But this time, she clearly saw something.
It was just that the feeling flashed by so quickly she couldn't be certain what it was.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
Ding Weixiang’s voice suddenly rang out behind her. She jumped, realizing that if this guard knew she was feeding his master strange things, there was no telling how he would criticize her. Her first instinct was to pull her hand back and "destroy the evidence."
Unexpectedly, the man in the carriage was faster than she was. He swept the berries into his hand and then offered a nonchalant smile.
"Young Master Yao said the carriage was too stuffy and asked me to open the curtain for some air."
Xiao Nanhui quickly nodded in agreement. Ding Weixiang walked up suspiciously, looking around. Finding nothing amiss, he handed the freshly drawn water to Zhongli Jing.
Seeing this, Xiao Nanhui quickly found an excuse to slip away.
"It's time to get moving, right? I'll go call Bo Lao."
She walked quite a distance away, but Ding Weixiang’s gaze still clung to her back like a leech. After some thought, he decided to check once more. "Master... was everything truly alright just now?"
Zhongli Jing didn't even lift his eyelids. "What could be wrong?"
Thinking of what the woman had said by the river, Ding Weixiang couldn't help but caution him, "Miss Xiao does not know Master’s true identity. Some things still require a sense of propriety."
Zhongli Jing didn't speak for a moment, lowering his head to take a shallow sip of the water. The river water was cold and clear, washing away the taste of the raspberries from his mouth.
In truth, the fruit hadn't been sour at all. But for some reason, a momentary spark of mischief had flickered in his heart, wanting to see her reaction.
He rarely felt curiosity toward others. Was this a good thing or a bad thing?
"That is where her dullness lies, and also where her interest lies." Zhongli Jing leaned his head against his hand, a trace of boyish amusement touching his brow.
Ding Weixiang saw this and was momentarily stunned.
He had been by this man's side for over a decade, yet it had been a long time since he had seen such an expression.
Sensing the gaze, Zhongli Jing looked up at him. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ding Weixiang shook his head. "It's nothing. I just feel that Master seems to have more... emotion than before."
The smile lingering at the corners of Zhongli Jing’s mouth vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling coldness that struck fear into the heart.
"Perhaps I should not have saved her that day." His gaze fell upon the woman in the distance, who was currently bickering with Bo Lao. He spoke each word deliberately: "Those who disturb my mind should be killed."
Ding Weixiang’s heart skipped a beat. He had almost forgotten how unpredictable the man before him was. At this moment, he couldn't tell how much of those words were serious and how much were mere dismissal.
A warm breeze blew past the cold sweat on his brow, and the other man's voice gradually returned to its usual calm.
"Forget it. It hasn't come to that yet. Consider it a favor to Xiao Zhun. The Marquis of Qinghuai’s manor has always been desolate; how could I let another person's heart turn cold and bitter?"
The few raspberries were still held in his hand. The fine fuzz on the fresh fruit brushed against his palm, feeling slightly itchy.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 蓬蘽 | Penglei / Wild Raspberries | Specifically *Rubus hirsutus*, a type of wild bramble berry. |
| 枢夕山 | Shuxi Mountain | A mountain near the capital, Quecheng. |
| 无面神功 | Faceless Art | A metaphorical term for a perfect poker face or lack of expression. |
| 乱我心神者，当杀 | Those who disturb my mind should be killed | A cold, ruthless sentiment expressed by Zhongli Jing. |
