Chapter 82

Deep in the dead of night, deep within the dense forest where the moonlight grew murky, Chen Shu clambered up the tree. She tugged so hard that the ancient giant swayed into the night sky, scattering fractured moonlight onto the ground below.

The heavy darkness was both bright and dim. Below, He Yu stood, his voice lowered awkwardly as he asked:

“Almost done? Really, there’s no need—”

Perhaps too timid, his voice was too hushed. Chen Shu, clinging to the tree above, carefree as ever, ignored his anxiety entirely. Swinging from a branch, she let out a loud gasp that seemed to reverberate for miles around. Moments later, two faint, distant echoes drifted back through the mountains from the forest depths.

Layered shadows from the canopy cast deep gloom, making Chen Shu’s position hard to trace. He Yu craned his neck, his eyes helplessly chasing the shifting patches of light overhead, nearly tripping over the bushes at his feet in his fright. Driven by fear, he couldn’t help but call out Chen Shu’s name once more.

The treetop rustled slightly, and then her responsive voice fell silent too.

He Yu stood with his head tilted back, watching the shaking leaves through an unusual quiet. Just as he was about to call a third time, a figure—like a full fruit knocked down by rain yet bursting with vibrant life—fell from above, crash-landing onto the grass beside He Yu.

Chen Shu rose with practised ease, dusting herself off. He Yu, startled again, asked with his heart still pounding:

“Even with lightness skills this masterful, this tree stands tall, this night is pitch-black, and we’re right in the mountains—if you fell, what then?” He didn’t finish the thought, but the dread on his face wasn’t solely because of her tree-climbing scouting act!

“—So I break a leg? Why not just set it back?” By now, with He Yu, Chen Shu held nothing back. Her answer was bold, casual. She even thrust out a hand for emphasis. “They say Fangcheng’s in that direction—follow the mountain path half a day more, cross a small bridge, descend the slope into this low-lying basin. Fangcheng sits right in the basin.”

“Wait, wait,” He Yu stammered, bewildered. He hurried to stop her flow of words. “When was this said? Where? By whom? How does climbing a tree magically unfold a map—?”

Chen Shu paused, gave two rather deliberate coughs into her hands, and scratched her head. “I… saw it! My eyes are sharper!” Without waiting for He Yu’s utterly confused further questions, she grabbed his arm and dragged him back toward the two docile draft horses tied by the forest trail.

He Yu, naturally, had no time to ponder the strangeness of this. Pushed and pulled, he was hustled back to the horses.

The two of them had come from Diancang Pass, galloping nearly the entire night—even faster than that journey Chen Shu took with Shen Jie once. Thus, before dawn broke, they had already passed Yingqiu City and crossed the Yingqiu Weir.

Never mind anything else, this frenzied pace had taken its toll on the two horses. This rest they’d just taken? Necessitated. The poor nags couldn’t take the long trek anymore. They whickered incessantly, refusing stubbornly to move another step. As soon as they cried out, Chen Shu muttered complaints under her breath—her soft heart won out; she stopped.

Besides, neither Chen Shu nor He Yu had ever traveled the stretch of mountain road from Diancang Pass to Fangcheng before. After a quick conversation, they agreed to just camp there for the rest of the night and sleep out in the open. Waiting for daylight would make travel easier and safer.

But stopping didn’t mean she was idle. While He Yu busied himself elsewhere, she was whispering insistently in his ear: Why not climb up just for a quick look right now? Before he could even properly judge if she was teasing or genuinely proposing it, she had already scampered up a tree like a shot.

By the time Chen Shu descended, He Yu beneath the tree was sweating from worry.

Luckily for her, He Yu was easily placated. Distracted this once, he didn’t persist with his questions.

Back at the roadside, He Yu automatically knelt. Gathering dry, soft grass turned golden-yellow by autumn, he piled and shaped it swiftly into two surprisingly clean, neat sleeping mats.

They slept soundly until daybreak. The two horses stood quietly, equally restful through the night. It wasn’t until they were led back onto the main trail that those two horses seemed reluctant to go. Only after Chen Shu cracked her leather horsewhip twice with a fierce whoosh could they be spurred to hurry.

Before noon, having passed through more mountains, followed a small stream that was a tributary of the Yushui River, and skirted at a distance two tiny villages nestled in the hills, they arrived at Fangcheng.

Among the towns Chen Shu had visited, Fangcheng most resembled Diancang Pass. But not because it also lay beside the Yushui River or at the mountains’ edge. Quite the opposite—Diancang Pass had treacherous terrain; without the fortification, the very wilderness might not even permit flowers to bloom.

Fangcheng, however, possessed a uniquely gifted plain. Emerging from towering mountain ridges, there wasn’t just sky before them—but vast, dazzling fields, vibrant green and golden yellow rolling endlessly into the distance around the town, densely packed.

Amid this gloriously colourful sea of green, Fangcheng sat exactly like the pistil at the centre of a blooming flower. Yet against the sunlight, its city walls looked dark—clean, distinct. Look closer, and their stonework seemed identical to Diancang Pass: large, iron-grey blocks. Remnants from an earlier dynasty? In times of peace, or distant fragmentation, conflict never touched here. The walls stood preserved far from the capital, an anomaly.

It was no wonder that outside Fangcheng was so lush, while the city itself seemed so dim.

Of course, besides the high-built city walls, and even the towers hidden in the forest beyond, revealing only their tops, there was an even more important reason.

Apart from the commoners toiling with bowed heads beyond the city, no one was walking about in the vast fields outside. The sound of sweat dripping onto the mud was more frequent than the sound of a horse moving, and indeed far more frequent.

When Chen Shu and He Yu entered the city, apart from the two of them, not a single other person was entering. The few lazy guards at the city gate, idle as could be, seemed almost as if they were waiting specifically for them.

“Names?”

“Yu He. Yu as in surplus, He as in rivers and mountains.”

Chen Shu stared thoughtfully at He Yu as he finished, then turned to face the guard and said, “Um… Shen Shu, both characters related to water.”

“For what purpose have you two come to Fangcheng?” It wasn’t entirely a guard dressed like a soldier but more like a young master, just holding a register with crooked handwriting scrawled on it. While asking, he kept his head down and aimlessly scribbled a few more strokes. “Don’t worry, if you’re honest, we won’t give you trouble.”

“Passing through as merchants,” said Chen Shu.

“Visiting relatives and friends,” said He Yu.

They spoke in unison, and the moment they finished, even the man’s air of distraction vanished. He looked up in surprise—whether he heard clearly or not, who knew—but his eyelids lifted, shedding their daze, and he composed himself to ask once more:

“Answer one at a time—are you two together?”

“Yes. We’re together,” said He Yu. Chen Shu also realized she was about to make a mistake and nodded fervently beside him.

“Then answer properly! Don’t try to dodge with something vague. Speak truthfully, and I’ll let you into the city. If you’re not honest and spin some tall tale—” He spun the brush in his hand and pointed its barrel at the register, indicating the first few names on the page, where several were already struck out in glaring scarlet ink, even leaving a distinct ink smell different from the dark strokes. “I needn’t say more—those brave enough to come to Fangcheng must know the risks in their hearts?”

“Yes, we know,” said He Yu, forcing a smile while shielding Chen Shu half behind him. “We’re both answering honestly.”

“Well, tell me again, then—what brings you to Fangcheng in detail?”

“It’s just that I have kin and friends living here. We got word and didn’t have time before, but now we’re free, so we’re here to visit,” said Chen Shu.

“And nothing else—we’re just heading north to restock inventory. With these horses along, the main road wasn’t suitable, so we took a shortcut toward Fangcheng,” said He Yu.

Before the man could lift his head in irritation again, both of them froze, held their breath, and exchanged a helpless glance. He Yu was speechless, stifling a laugh, while Chen Shu, feeling guilty like a “thief,” opened her mouth, whipped around quickly, and tried to cover up with excuses before the man could speak.

Her movement was already swift, but surprisingly, he was even faster. He Yu, experienced many decades more than her, just glanced at Chen Shu and calmly added:

“That’s right, while on our merchant trip, passing this way, we planned to visit relatives in Fangcheng.”

“…Should’ve said so plainly sooner—wasted all that effort.” The man complained as he wrote an equally crooked “merchant” character on the paper, added a “relative” character, looked very pleased with it, then breathed on the ink for a while until it dried. He lifted the paper to admire it before remembering the two standing before him. Lifting his head, he said, “Rein in that horse tightly; if you bother any highborn folk, no one can save you… You’re good.”

“…Aren’t you going to record the names?” Chen Shu asked.

It was a perfectly ordinary question, but the man froze mid-action. Chen Shu tilted her head slightly, gazing blankly yet curiously at his little booklet. He Yu realized first—grabbing her with one hand and holding the reins of both horses with the other, apologizing frantically with smiles to the soldier who was about to flare up, he slipped like the wind and strode into the city in a few steps.

Only when the city gate behind had shrunk smaller than He Yu’s eyepatch did he stop. Patting Chen Shu’s head with a helpless grin, he said:

“Why ask so much!”

Chen Shu, patted like that, didn’t get angry. Mischievously sticking out her tongue, she said, “I thought that gatekeeper wasn’t skilled—wanted to test him out!”

“Fangcheng rarely gets visitors, so it’s only natural he’s not skilled.”

“Who says?” Chen Shu’s eyes rolled as she turned to point at the gate and said, “Look, two more are coming right behind us!”

But He Yu’s words earlier were no lie, and what Chen Shu saw was equally true. Startled, He Yu followed her gesture to look back: indeed, a large and a small figure stood at the city gate, their forms somewhat familiar.

Just as the two glanced back, a tall and a short person were being questioned at the gate. By just listening, it was clear they were even worse at “this” than Chen Shu—it was actually the short child who chirped out:

“This is… my dad!”

Hearing the voice, Chen Shu looked intently and saw the child happened to look up at that moment, his face exposed to the sunlight. The shadows sharply outlined his features—thick eyebrows, large eyes, and two thin swords strapped to his back. Wasn’t this Ying Wei, that short figure from Qin Xin Bluff?

Looking more carefully at the tall one previously blocked by the ruffian-like guard, he too carried two slender swords. With a tall, lean frame, a slightly bowed head, and a constrained, bashful expression—if this wasn’t Xuan Qin, then who could it be?

She heard Xuan Qin stammer indecisively for quite some time until the person opposite impatiently urged him again. Only then did he answer, his voice so low it even carried a hint of hurt.

“That’s right… I am… I am his father…”