The night wind howled, carrying a chill that bit deep into the bone.
Though the sun had not yet fully set, a heavy silence had already descended upon the city gates. Seven or eight silver-laden carriages rolled across the cobblestone road, the rumbling of their wheels sounding like muffled drums as they kicked up clouds of fine dust.
Jin Hong sat tall upon his steed, his left hand resting on the hilt of his blade while his right gripped an iron staff. He personally led the way, clearing the path for the transport.
Suddenly, a round-faced young man stepped out from a small roadside pavilion. He was shivering so hard he had to rub his hands together, yet he wore a respectful, welcoming smile. “I’ve finally caught up with you, Captain Jin!”
Jin Hong leveled his iron staff, his voice booming like muffled thunder. “Who goes there?!”
“The Chancellor’s estate butler, Liu Erlang.”
The round-faced youth smiled genially, rubbing his hands as he stepped forward. “His Lordship said the wind is fierce and the snow is heavy tonight. Fearing you might freeze on the road, he ordered me to wait here for you.”
At the mention of “His Lordship,” Jin Hong’s muscles tightened instinctively. He vaulted off his horse, his landing causing the green bricks to let out a heavy thud.
He was a hulking man by nature, and standing beneath the flickering lamplight, he looked like a looming tower of iron.
Liu Erlang, however, was not intimidated. He turned and waved a hand. “Bring out the gifts from His Lordship.”
Two servants stepped forward carrying a red-lacquered food box. When they lifted the lid, the aroma of glistening roast goose wafted out, accompanied by curls of steam.
The second layer of the box held a flagon of wine and several small side dishes to accompany it.
Finally, the servants revealed the bottom layer. Neatly stacked inside were rows of shimmering silver—exactly two hundred taels.
Jin Hong stared fixedly at the food and the silver, his eyes, large as copper bells, beginning to bloodshot.
“There is more,” Liu Erlang said with a smile and a clap of his hands. Two sturdy servants stepped forward, carrying a grey-brown cloak.
He shook it out personally. The cloak was lined with a whole black bear pelt, the stitching rugged and firm. It looked immensely warm.
“His Lordship said—” Liu Erlang paused, mimicking Gu Huaiyu’s usual soft, measured tone. “It is a bitter winter. Take care on your journey.”
Jin Hong’s entire body jolted as if he had been punched in the chest.
He could no longer maintain his composure. His knee slammed into the ground, and his voice came out hoarse. “This humble servant… thanks His Lordship for his grace!”
Liu Erlang rushed to help him up. “Captain Jin, please, there’s no need for this!”
But Jin Hong refused to rise. His eyes were red as he gritted his teeth. “What are His Lordship’s orders? This servant will go through fire and water—I will not hesitate!”
Liu Erlang shook his head and laughed. “His Lordship has no demands.”
Jin Hong froze.
Liu Erlang tucked his hands into his sleeves and said softly, “His Lordship only said that Captain Jin is a man who risks his life for the country. There ought to be someone in this world to back you up.”
A man who risks his life for the country… there ought to be someone to back you up.
Those words were like a blunt blade hacking straight into Jin Hong’s heart.
He had spent ten years risking his life at the border. He had been stabbed, frozen, and forced to eat snow. He had seen countless court officials, yet he had never heard words like these.
Jin Hong abruptly lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the freezing brick ground. His shoulders shook violently, though he forced himself not to let a single tear fall.
Liu Erlang remained silent for a moment before whispering, “Captain Jin, the wind is picking up. It is time to head out.”
Jin Hong took a deep breath and gave a heavy cupped-hand salute, his voice rasping. “Please tell His Lordship… Jin Hong will remember this!”
***
Meanwhile, in an old residence within the city.
Pei Jingyi stepped through the frost and into a small courtyard. A tiny flicker of lamplight, no larger than a bean, shone through the window of the main house. Old Man Liu and his grandson were too frugal to light a lamp for themselves, leaving only a guttering candle for Zhou Ruian’s room.
Before he even reached the door, the high-pitched singing of a young girl drifted from inside:
“The swallow flies past the golden threshold, not to carry mud, but to carry flower petals…”
The tune was strange, unlike the melodies of the Central Plains. It sounded more like the wild folk songs sung by shepherd boys in Eastern Liao.
Pei Jingyi’s brow twitched as he pushed the door open.
“Get out! Who told you to make such a racket?!”
Zhou Ruian roared as if he had swallowed gunpowder.
The little girl flinched, dropping the grass grasshopper in her hand. Tears began to splash down her face.
Pei Jingyi walked over and knelt. He picked up the grass grasshopper, expertly fixed the broken stem in a few quick motions, and handed it back. “Take it.”
The little girl looked at him timidly, not daring to reach out.
Pei Jingyi clicked his tongue, fished a piece of maltose from his robe, and pressed it into her palm. “Go play outside.”
The girl’s eyes lit up. Clutching the candy, she turned her tears into a smile and ran out.
The moment Pei Jingyi stood up, his smile vanished. He kicked the frame of Zhou Ruian’s bed. “Taking your anger out on a child? You’re getting more pathetic by the day.”
Zhou Ruian lay paralyzed among a pile of moldy quilts, his complexion as grey as a corpse’s. He spat on the floor. “That little brat’s constant noise makes my brain throb!”
Pei Jingyi didn’t respond. He pulled over a stool and sat down, narrowing his eyes as he studied the man.
Zhou Ruian felt a chill under his gaze and coughed violently. “Is Gu Yu still looking for me everywhere?”
