Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Hundreds of li from Mijiang Slope lay Yingqiu City. Nestled within its groves of tall trees and graceful bamboo, it too appeared devoid of inhabitants, yet thrummed with a raw, untamed life. Unlike the direct, piercing sunlight that flooded Mijiang Slope right up to the clouds, here dense foliage gathered in overlapping layers, filtering and consuming even the strongest rays. The result was shade-drenched coolness, verdant and lush – perfectly suited to the lingering chill of approaching autumn.

Without waiting for Shen Jie, Chen Shu shot forward towards the spot she had just pointed out. In a few swift leaps, as nimble as an aerialist, she vanished into the nearly dried-out bed of the Yingqiu Weir.

“Take care!” Shen Jie called after her.

“Ah, no need to worry about me!” Chen Shu’s bright, slightly soft reply floated back from within the thicket, like an unfettered bird before it disappeared completely from sight.

From their former vantage point on the mountain path, even Chen Shu’s form was completely obscured behind the high embankment. Yet Shen Jie showed no haste. A soft laugh escaped her, tinged with chiding affection. “Hush your voice then! My worry wasn’t for you, but those hoofprints! Mind your feet, don’t trample them!”

“`

As she spoke, Shen Jie also walked steadily toward the bottom of the weir, proceeding all the way to the top of Yingqiu Weir before leaping down and landing steadily on the weir’s base, meeting Chen Shu, who was already growing impatient.

“Look!” Chen Shu exclaimed as soon as she saw Shen Jie jump down, pointing at the horse hoof prints at the bottom of the weir. She spoke in a hushed voice, though even at that volume, her excitement was unmistakable. “Isn’t this the horse hoof print we saw that night?”

She stood to the side, rattling off a flurry of words rapidly, gazing eagerly as Shen Jie approached her.

In contrast to Chen Shu’s obvious delight, Shen Jie appeared much calmer. She crouched down, studied carefully, used her hand to measure, and then gave an indecisive “hmm.”

“How do you know this is the horse hoof print from that day?” she asked Chen Shu.

“Uh…” Chen Shu paused briefly before replying. “They look the same! Like how my sister and I don’t look alike—people vary in height, build, and every other way, just like horses!”

Shen Jie lifted her head to look at her. Against the daylight, tiny droplets of sweat clung to her messy fringe, but Shen Jie’s gaze remained sharp and piercing.

“Besides that, what else can you see?” she asked with great interest. “Can you tell the horse’s size?”

“…How could I possibly tell…” Chen Shu’s voice lowered involuntarily, but then she justified it firmly by stepping beside the print and measuring it. “…Anyway, it’s smaller than my foot!”

Shen Jie couldn’t help but chuckle. Her initially stern eyes softened as her laughter deepened. She shook her head, beckoned Chen Shu while stifling her smile, and bent Chen Shu down to point it out. “Look at this hoof print—it’s shallower than the one from last night, but the shape matches perfectly. And one of the hind hoof prints has a notch, so it must be the same horse. It’s just that after the flood subsided, the mud at the bottom of the weir differed from the mountain path, making it harder to set.”

As she spoke, her hand shifted slightly, following the mark’s direction to point toward a few distant hoof prints. “And this person, after their evil deed, waited for the flood to pass before returning to the mountains, riding up the slope. At that point, it’s clear they had grown careless; even the hoof prints became scattered, spaced much closer together than when they galloped all the way from Diancang Pass to this spot to destroy the dam.”

Occasionally, a bird call echoed in the mountains, and the continuous gurgle of the small stream sounded close by. Chen Shu listened to Shen Jie’s explanation, her mouth gaping wider and wider. Finally, after thinking for a long while, she belatedly exclaimed, “Oh!” and said, “Now I understand!”

“You get it?” Shen Jie asked.

“Yes!” Chen Shu answered.

“Then let me ask you—why are we leaving Yingqiu City from the north instead of following the embankment the whole way to search?”

“Uh…” Chen Shu tilted her head back in thought before saying, “Because people from that rotten county magistrate might be guarding the dam against us?”

“Correct!” Shen Jie patted her cheek, smiling as she rose. “But not only that.

“Last night, in such haste, I couldn’t see the hoof prints near the dam clearly. But precisely because they were indistinct, I noticed—from outside Yingqiu City East and South, along the same trail leading to Yingqiu Weir on the mountain road, countless footprints of different people were stamped everywhere. Most were conscripted laborers sent to repair the weir. Where the hoof prints—meaning the path from Diancang Pass we followed—met that spot, I could still make out the difference between hoof prints and footprints because there were only one or two trips made, and the horse carried a rider, leaving deeper impressions.

“Yet at Yingqiu Weir, those footprints became muddled because those temporary laborers paced back and forth to repair the embankment, scattering footprints everywhere that entirely covered the hoof prints.

“And from how that person—or group—stayed silent and utterly disregarded cleanup, they’d gambled that the county magistrate of Yingqiu City was crafty and would send people to patch things up to mask any issues. Meaning, it didn’t matter if hoof prints were left behind; they’d soon be buried under later footprints, untraceable—he didn’t care.”

“…But when those people head back, they return to Yingqiu City,” Chen Shu scratched her hair, following Shen Jie’s train of thought, “and they don’t follow the same route as this culprit. So wouldn’t his escape trail reveal his movements? Or is this evildoer actually from Yingqiu City?”

“Excellent question!” Shen Jie beamed at her, clearly quite pleased. “I was confused at first too—even thought I might be wrong. Maybe this person was bold enough not to mind his tracks being exposed. That’s why we had to come to the other side of Yingqiu Weir, to ‘gamble’ once—”

Circle upon circle of mud-covered puddles reflected the sky as if veiled in gray. Chen Shu lowered her gaze, following the ‘small stream’ at the weir’s bottom, her sight eventually resting on the far end of Yingqiu Weir, where the gaping hole of the destroyed dam lay.

From a distance, the damage to that dam wasn’t clear; only this ‘small stream’ of aggregated puddles faintly caught the light, streaming toward the dam. Chen Shu blankly stared for a moment before jolting into sudden realization. She turned back and said:

“Could it be—”

“Yes.” Shen Jie cut in with a smile, raising her chin toward the stream. “This person had the horse wade through the water, tracking the flow at the weir’s bottom upstream. Only when he reached this point did he emerge—all to hide his tracks!”

As the words rang out, ripples seemed to ripple across the weir-bottom puddles, causing the mirrored sky to flutter faintly. Chen Shu stood, peered urgently toward where the hoof prints led, and asked, “Then doesn’t this hoof print mean—?”

With that, she took a step to dash off into the woods, in the direction the hoof prints penetrated.

But Shen Jie looked up, stopping her with a sharp glance. She rose slowly and said, “Be cautious. If I’m not mistaken, this person likely lives nearby.”

“What—” Chen Shu blinked, inquiring, “Why?”

“If you’d done something wrong and fled back to Zhanglin Village, would you hide your tracks from Yingqiu Weir to Diancang Pass?”

“…I, I never do bad things!”

“It was mere conjecture,” said Shen Jie. She stood up as well, gazing along the trail of hoofprints. “To head east toward Yingqiu Weir, this mountain path across the embankment is the only way. Yet this person deliberately concealed their trail, just as I ‘gambled.’ That proves they weren’t fleeing east. Their hideout must be near. Ten steps, twenty steps, perhaps. They might just be found if we push deeper into this forest.”

“Then why are we waiting?” said Chen Shu, nearly tugging Shen Jie along in her impatience. “Aren’t we going right after them?”

“Let’s go!”

—

The moment they stepped into the dense woods, a coolness enveloped them, thickening like the surrounding foliage, bringing an instant calm to the heart. A few stubborn shafts of sunlight fought their way through the canopy, only to be intercepted by another leaf, scattering like splashed water. The whole forest seemed to shimmer faintly, flourishing so vigorously.

Walking deeper, they occasionally crushed the dry leaves underfoot, following the hoofprints. Those prints grew fainter, dissolving amidst the broken twigs and trampled weeds they left behind. Chen Shu scratched her head, then quietly slowed her pace. Giving up on tracking, she just trailed behind Shen Jie, following step for step as they ventured further in.

Shen Jie abruptly halted. Chen Shu nearly bumped into that broad back. She rubbed her forehead, ready to let out a pathetic little whimper, only to be silenced by the sharp, warning glare Shen Jie shot her way. Sensing something, Chen Shu craned her neck to peek past Shen Jie. And there it was—

Amidst a forest interwoven with dark red trunks and vibrant green leaves, a small stream wound its way down the mountainside, just like the countless tributaries of the Yushui River. But this stream was exceptionally clear, and exceptionally narrow, tumbling over smooth, round stones. Its end seemed almost hidden by the soil at the bottom of the slope.

No wonder this forest thrived so lushly.

And right beside this stream, on the slope not far away, protruded the unmistakable corner of a rooftop!

“…Grab him?” Chen Shu whispered, leaning close to Shen Jie’s ear.

“Not yet. We made noise all the way here. He must have heard,” Shen Jie answered, eyes fixed ahead. “Maybe he’s gone… No, he’s there!”

Following Shen Jie’s low exclamation, Chen Shu stood on tiptoes, straining to see. Sure enough, she made out the faint shape of a silhouette in the cabin window. Excitement surged. “Then let’s go grab him?”

“No, no,” Shen Jie muttered, frozen in place, not turning, almost as if talking to herself. “Knowing someone’s coming, why not flee? This is wrong… Where did I miscalculate? Is it really the mastermind inside?”

Before the words fully faded, a sharp snap cut through the still air. In the next instant, both their eyes flew wide open.

Shock froze even Chen Shu’s impulsive charge. The whole mountain forest seemed to hold its breath. No birdsong, no feeling of the mountain wind. Only—

A furious blaze suddenly erupted within the small cabin, swelling hungrily, licking ever higher, until its searing brightness reflected in their very pupils!

“—The horse!” Chen Shu suddenly shrieked. “That person’s horse! It’s still beside the house!”

Her voice, slicing through the roaring crackle of fire like a sharp knife, pierced Shen Jie’s ears.

“—WHAT?!”

But Shen Jie’s cry of horror wasn’t for Chen Shu’s words. Whipping around in alarm, she grabbed Chen Shu’s wrist, pulling the younger girl hard against her own body, holding her tight. Yet Chen Shu slipped from her grasp like a slippery and quick little panther. In the blink of an eye, she had wriggled free of Shen Jie’s embrace, breaking loose! She launched herself in a reckless leap towards the consuming wall of fire!

“—Chen Shu!”