Chapter 14

The flaming clouds at the horizon seemed to have set the entire sky ablaze.

Clutching the small note pressed into his palm, Xie Ci exchanged a nervous glance with Gu Wan. Both felt a wave of anxiety, though for different reasons—Gu Wan feared that words of wild passion might misguide the children, while Xie Ci worried about the kind of nonsense akin to “an older wife brings fortune” or “same age, all is well.” Hastily, they unfolded the paper, relieved to find the message earnest and proper.

“Little Si is a stubborn child, prone to getting caught in his own thoughts. Yuan Niang, you must counsel him often, gently guide him. No hatred or vengeance is ever more important than a person.”

“Don’t force yourself too much in life; do your best without regrets.”

Quite unlike Xie Second Sister-in-law’s usual brisk and forceful manner, the delicate brushwork of the note was as gentle and flowing as a quiet stream, as if spoken softly under a dim lamp—careful reminders, heartfelt instructions.

Both breathed easier.

Xie Ci picked up the bamboo pole and pushed off the bank. The small boat, neither too big nor too small, rocked gently with the current toward the middle of the river. He cast Gu Wan a sidelong glance, explaining with care, “Second Sister-in-law just likes to tease me. Don’t pay her any mind.”

The autumn sun had grown a shade cooler. The river breeze swept briskly over the water, sending Xie Ci’s robes fluttering. It might sound unbelievable, but Gu Wan’s presence had become something of a pillar for him—a glimmer of light in his darkest despair.

He would never forget those hands that shook him awake during his fever in prison, splitting open the haze of his delirium. He had stumbled, escaping death only with her support. In the howling blizzard, several times he had nearly collapsed, but the fact that someone was by his side gave him the strength to grit his teeth and endure.

He wondered if he should blame his second sister-in-law. Ever since she’d made those remarks, things between him and Gu Wan had never been as natural as before; there lingered a faint sense of loss. Sometimes, a fleeting thought would cross his mind—if only he had gotten to know her well before, played together, not said those foolish words on their wedding night, then perhaps...

Xie Ci was naïve about true feelings, but no fool. Even if he’d never tasted pork, he’d at least seen pigs run. He understood well enough what Second Sister-in-law had implied.

But there are no “ifs” in life.

She did not like him.

Jesting about such things felt like it sullied the sincerity between them.

“I’m sorry.”

Gu Wan stood at the prow; he looked up at her, the golden-red sunset casting a halo about her form. In truth, Xie Ci was not free of uncertainty about what lay ahead—not afraid of death, but of expending his all in vain, dying without ever clearing his family’s name or avenging them.

Yet with Gu Wan at his side, his heart was steadier by far.

He spoke in a low voice, “Don’t mind Second Sister-in-law’s nonsense.”

Fortunately, Gu Wan was unconcerned. She appeared surprised. “Why apologize? It’s nothing.”

The wind carried her voice—bright and clear, she smiled, sweeping away the disheveled hair blown wild by the breeze. Her laughter rang out, and Xie Ci could not help but feel lighter in spirit.

He replied eagerly, “Mm!”

After a while, Xie Ci recalled something. “When all this is over, I’ll go fetch your mother and brother. No, better I write to Second Sister-in-law right away. As soon as things settle down at home and we’re in a position to spare someone, I’ll hire an escort agency to bring them back to Zhongdu.”

As he spoke, Xie Ci realized it might be too long, and since their future was uncertain, writing and entrusting the matter to Second Sister-in-law was the safer course.

Gu Wan was momentarily speechless. Honestly, if Xie Ci hadn’t brought it up, she might have forgotten entirely.

The original host had few relatives, but her mother was still alive, along with a half-brother. After taking refuge at the Loyal Duke’s residence, her mother met her first love, rekindled their relationship, and planned to remarry. The original host refused to follow, choosing to remain with the Xie family.

As for why her mother hadn’t helped when she was imprisoned—it was because her stepfather, like the first, was a scoundrel. When disaster struck the Loyal Duke’s household, he divorced her mother and threw both mother and son out.

Two wretched men in a row. Lady Xun had tried to dissuade her from marrying the second, but she had been stubborn.

Gu Wan didn’t know what to say. She’d learned of this tragic story while inquiring about the Xie family’s fate; mother and son now scraped by in a small country estate—fallen hard, but at least with food and shelter.

She scratched her head. “All right, write the letter then. But there’s no rush. Be sure to tell Second Sister-in-law that even in three or five years it won’t be too late. Unless there’s real trouble, best to wait until I return—safety first, always.”

Thinking of her love-struck mother, Gu Wan was at a loss. But she couldn’t just ignore her, so in the end she gave her advice.

Xie Ci took it all to heart and finally said to Gu Wan with earnestness, “I’ll take good care of them. Just as I do for Sister-in-law and Da Ming.”

Gu Wan sighed. “All right. Thank you.”

Xie Ci pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “No need to thank me.”

Compared to what you’ve done for me and the Xie family, this is nothing.

...

The cold wind off the river pushed the small boat toward the anchored passenger ship. A hook and cable dropped from above, latching onto the bow with a clatter, and a rope ladder followed.

Gu Wan and Xie Ci were among the last to board. No sooner had they set foot on deck than the captain barked, “Prepare to set sail!”

The raft and small boats were drawn in a chain toward the shore; anchors raised, sails unfurled.

Crimson dusk mingled with encroaching darkness as the ship sliced through shimmering waves, heading southward. Their passage was on the night ship, drifting south with the current. By daylight, they would turn west, and after several more days’ journey by water, continue overland northwest.

Night had fallen; the figures on the riverside dock soon shrank to tiny black dots, swallowed by the gloom, leaving only the sound of wind in the poplars and the murmur of flowing water.

As the ship moved, the clamor of farewells and the warmth of the small boat faded. The river breeze brought a chill; Xie Ci and Gu Wan gazed into the distance, but the dock had vanished from sight.

People left the deck in pairs and small groups; the main cabin was bustling, but the aft deck was quiet. Xie Ci still held the little note.

Second Sister-in-law’s earnest reminders were all for him.

Only a sliver of red remained in the sky, casting its glow on their brows and cheekbones. Xie Ci read the note over and over, then said at last, “But I’ll have to disappoint Second Sister-in-law and Mother.”

His voice, once wounded, was now hoarse—like the slow bow of a cello, drawn across a requiem.

With a touch of grief.

“This journey is to clear my father’s and brother’s names, to avenge them.”

Xie Ci, tall and lean, stood with his back to the light—a silhouette in the dark.

—In the blink of an eye, it was deep autumn again; he had grown much, nearly seventeen now.

His sleeves were tightly bound, a slender, razor-sharp blade at his waist. As he spoke, any trace of warmth in his features faded, replaced by a bone-deep hatred.

Only Gu Wan knew his true intentions.

He could still recall his father and brother’s faces, their laughter—only for them to die in disgrace, their bodies severed, reviled by all.

“I will find the truth.”

“I hope to overturn the case against my father and brother.”

“If I cannot, I will kill them all!”

Whoever conspired against them, he would kill; traitors in power, he would kill—whether in the army or court.

His family’s destruction was a feud of blood and death!

Xie Ci turned, the evening wind tousling his long hair. Word by word, he declared, “I will make them pay in blood!”

At home, he had hidden half the truth; otherwise, neither his mother nor his sister-in-law would have let him leave.

But he would rather die than live in shame.

Gu Wan understood. Before their departure, he had confided in her; she was not surprised. “You can do it!”

“Two heads are better than one. We’ll work together, and perhaps soon we’ll uncover the truth.”

“Mm.”

Gu Wan’s voice was light and reassuring, as though none of this was insurmountable. The tension in Xie Ci’s chest eased a little. He glanced at the note in his hand, folded it carefully, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his robe.

Turning, they climbed the narrow gangway to their second-floor cabin.

Meals were included in their fare; a young attendant brought dishes to each room. Though they had eaten before, the memory of hunger made them loath to waste even plain fare—they sat and ate heartily.

With the door closed, Gu Wan opened the window, checked for any trouble, and asked, “If we’re heading west, where exactly are we going?”

After all, “heading west” was vague—what was Xie Ci’s concrete plan, his starting point, any leads?

Xie Ci paused, set down his chopsticks. After a long moment, he replied, “Suzhou.”

The last rays of dusk faded; his eyes were as dark and fathomless as the night. He spoke slowly, “Back then, twelve great generals all accused my father and brother of treason. Six of them were my father’s closest lieutenants.”

His voice was rough and low.

Otherwise, the evidence would not have seemed so “conclusive.”

Even the skeptical public quickly believed, and the Xie family was nailed to the pillar of shame. The more renowned for loyalty, the greater the scorn and spitting they received.

But Xie Ci knew with utter certainty—his father and brother could never have betrayed their country.

With a crack, the wooden chopsticks in his hand snapped in two.

In a few short words, Gu Wan, though prepared, was still shaken to the core.

After a pause, she said, “Very well, then let us go to Suzhou.”

...

Of those twelve generals, among the six closest confidants was Xie Ci’s own maternal uncle, Governor Xun Qingbi of Suzhou.

Xie Ci had told no one—not even Lady Xun—for fear of causing her grief.

He bore it all alone.

Touching the note inside his pocket, he read it again and again, finding some small comfort.

They rested that night. When dawn broke, the ship had reached Binzhou, then turned northwest. After arriving at Qinzhou, they switched from water to land, heading straight for Suzhou.

It’s worth mentioning—they ran into Li Yi.

At the Qinzhou docks, Li Yi was waiting for them.

Xie Ci spotted him first, frowning as Li Yi descended from a tavern upstairs, whip in hand. “Xie Ci, you and I share the same misfortune. Let me help you.”

When they met again, Li Yi was no longer traveling in secret. Two guards led fresh relay horses from the post station, though Yu Manzhen was nowhere in sight.

Li Yi truly admired Xie Ci—not for any other reason than the man himself. His desire to bring Xie Ci under his command had never been stronger.

He’d sent a double ahead with the main party and waited here for over half a month on this inevitable route.

Gu Wan glanced at Li Yi, then up to the second-floor window, where a pair of shadowed eyes met hers. She snorted inwardly.

Xie Ci regarded Li Yi warily, replying coldly, “No need.”

With that, he pulled Gu Wan onto a horse, and together they galloped away from the docks.

The sound of hooves faded.

“Master?”

Li Yi raised his hand to halt his men. “Let’s go.”

There was no use rushing.

He smiled. “Sooner or later, he’ll realize he needs me.”

Yu Manzhen hurried down, staring after Gu Wan’s retreating figure. When Li Yi looked her way, she quickly averted her gaze.

“Mount up.”

...

The wind swept over them. Li Yi straightened his sleeves and swung himself onto his horse, not disappointed. This tall, enigmatic youth gazed ahead.

For now, he would focus on the tasks at hand.

...

Glancing back, Gu Wan saw the four riders vanish westward in a cloud of dust. Xie Ci finally reined in.

“We go this way.”

Though the other party seemed not to be reporting on them, and though their covert departure from the capital to rescue the prisoners left a trail, Li Yi must have guessed Xie Ci’s resentment and that, once recovered, the two would head northwest, hence his wait at this crossroads.

Still, his appearance put Xie Ci on high alert. He said coldly, “These people have come for the Xie family—ill intentions, no doubt.”

Gu Wan had no objection, so together they took a long detour, stopping in Mingzhou for a few days before continuing to Suzhou.

Only after making sure no one tailed them did Xie Ci’s ever-knitted brow finally relax.

By the time they reached Suzhou, it was late autumn.

At noon, the autumn sun blazed, but the wind carried a chill. Endless yellow grass and boundless wilds stretched to the horizon. The northwest was rugged; even the courier roads seemed wild. Traveling at the rear of an escort company, they finally glimpsed Suzhou City in the distance.

Brown-yellow city walls hugged the earth; arrow towers loomed, imposing. As a border stronghold, defenses were tight. Even from afar, they encountered the first checkpoint—barriers and inspections. The head of the escort company led them skillfully to the end of the line.

Xie Ci rode on horseback; Gu Wan sat at the tail of a cart. He spoke quietly, “The man with the white silk that day—I recognized him. He’s one of my cousin Xun Xun’s guards.”

He referred to the attempted murder in the iron-barred prison at the start.

A seemingly insignificant man; with so few guards, and as Xie Ci and Xun Xun were not close, he should have been forgettable. But one New Year, when his cousin came to the capital on behalf of his father, he had come to the Loyal Duke’s residence—and Xie Ci remembered.

Just a fleeting extra among the crowd, unlikely as it seemed, but Xie Ci never forgot a face.

At noon, the sun was fierce; he wore a bamboo hat, his face shadowed. From Gu Wan’s angle, she could just make out his eyes—dark irises ringed with a faint pattern, almost a trace of double pupils.

Exceptionally striking—like night-blooming roses, mysterious and beautiful.

Gu Wan knew it was true. Xie Ci was extraordinarily gifted, especially with his sense of smell. In the novel, even when blinded, he could identify a traitor by scent, and years later, that clue led him to the truth.

This Xun Xun was one of the principal villains, rising high in office—eventually slain by Xie Ci’s sword.

Xie Ci was a savior of the dynasty, but by no means a saint.

Hatred cut to the bone; when the dynasty fell, vengeance began.

Gu Wan whispered, “We must be careful—Suzhou is their Xun family’s stronghold.”

Xie Ci’s dark, glassy eyes reflected the red tassel of his blade. At their edges, a faint crimson. His voice was hoarse. “I know.”

...

Up ahead, the escort chief waved; Xie Ci and several guards rode forward to assist.

The dry, cold wind stirred stray locks at Gu Wan’s temple. Leaning against the cart railing, she set her sword upright at the tail, turning the hilt slowly.

It was a gift from Second Sister-in-law.

She liked this sword, kept it spotless, the scabbard and hilt polished to a mirror shine. In the brilliant sun, the blue sky was vast and unpolluted, the horizon line between heaven and earth clear.

This journey, though perilous, didn’t frighten her; rather, she felt excitement—this had meaning, even without Yu Manzhen.

Was this not upholding the loyal and righteous?

Ah, that damned sense of justice!

She laughed at herself, then remembered someone had once told her, “You may have left, but your heart has not.”

Remembering that faintly smiling face, her own smile faded.

She stood thoughtful for a moment, then exhaled, sheathed her sword, and leapt from the cart to help Xie Ci at the front.

Together, they unwound the hemp ropes from the escort carts, opened the chests for inspection, and after passing the checkpoint, moved on.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan’s current identities were temporary guards. They had enough money, but used the job as a cover.

After three more stops and checkpoints, they finally entered Suzhou city.

Earlier, Gu Wan had warned Xie Ci to be careful—judging by Xun Xun, the Xun father and sons were no simple foes.

Especially Xie Ci’s uncle, Xun Rongbi—how formidable, they didn’t know; but from sending his son to kill Xie Ci, clearly a ruthless, cold-hearted man.

Now, with the enemy strong and themselves weak, caution was vital.

Yet, as soon as they entered Suzhou, they heard an astonishing piece of news.

Xie Ci was stunned. “You’re saying Governor Xun Rongbi has been gravely ill since last June? And the eldest son is dead?!”

The inn servant, stacking bowls, replied, “Yes, Suzhou has only one Governor Xun. Last June, the eldest son died of illness. The governor, shocked by the news, fell from his horse, was injured, then fell gravely ill from grief. He’s been recovering ever since. For all this time, it’s the second son who’s been handling both military and civil affairs here!”

Gu Wan gave a start, so much so she nearly dropped the jar of pickles she was holding. “Is that true?”

The servant bristled. “Why would I lie? Such a huge event—the governor’s fall happened on the road from the camp to his residence, witnessed by many. And for the eldest’s funeral and burial, there were countless attendees. You can find plenty of eyewitnesses if you ask around.”

Gu Wan glanced quickly at Xie Ci.

A draft fluttered the dark blue curtains; a stray lock of Xie Ci’s hair, fallen from beneath his bamboo hat, danced in the breeze. He slowly lifted his head, meeting Gu Wan’s incredulous gaze with cold, ink-black eyes.

His brow, taut ever since nearing Suzhou, furrowed even deeper.