A dark, large hand reached over, enveloping the slender hand resting on the beast-head buckle of his girdle. He neither tugged at the waistband following her motion, nor did he pull her hand away.
It stayed right there.
His long fingers slid between hers, parting her digits, finally giving a gentle squeeze to those bamboo-shoot-like fingertips. "I wish to take my lady south, yet my lady seems intent on staying in Ying County."
Daili didn't catch his meaning at first.
Who said she wanted to stay in Ying County?
She had no desire to remain here any longer. She wanted to go south, preferably to visit that old man Sun in Qiantang herself.
They sat on a soft couch by the window. The sunlight was strong, making his amber eyes appear even lighter in hue. Qin Shaozong made no attempt to conceal the desire in his gaze now; all the scorching, heavy greed was laid completely bare.
A vicious tiger emerged from the jungle, fully prepared—claws sharpened, fangs cleaned exceptionally well, waiting only to feast and sate its hunger. But the little fox freshly dug out from its den had fallen ill, not as plump or lively as before. So the tiger thought for a moment, chose to lie down, encircling it with its paws, occasionally giving it a lick to curb its craving.
Under his stare, Daili's brow twitched twice.
This man wasn't just thinking of a vigorous, full-scale engagement; he also believed that if they were to indulge recklessly for a night now, her body might not withstand it. She could fall ill again, forcing them to stay in Ying County.
"Couldn't the Marquis settle for just a taste?" Daili tried to negotiate.
Qin Shaozong gave a soft chuckle. Just as Daili thought there might be hope, he uttered two decisive words: "Not possible."
Daili gritted her teeth inwardly. This man could be truly, excessively wicked at times.
The sun rose and set, tides ebbed and flowed, and in the blink of an eye, Daili had endured two more days of medicine.
Early this morning, Ding Lianxi came to check her pulse. A look of relief crossed his face. "Lady Dai's illness has receded by ninety percent. However, this high fever came fiercely and lasted a considerable time, somewhat injuring your foundational vitality. For the next few days, my lady must avoid overexertion. Only then can you fully recuperate from the depletion."
While Ding Lianxi was taking her pulse, Qin Shaozong listened nearby. The man rotated the jade ring on his thumb, his expression inscrutable. "Congjian, prepare several doses of tonic medicine to consolidate her foundation for the lady."
Daili had already taken medicine for many consecutive days. It had left her tongue numb and her head dizzy. Hearing she needed more, she immediately frowned delicately. "No need, I'll just rest—"
"Prepare it." His tone brooked no argument.
Qin Shaozong looked at her, his amber eyes calm and unrippled, holding only one meaning: Does my lady still want that inspection team?
Daili fell silent.
Qin Shaozong then turned to Ding Lianxi. "Congjian, we will break camp and depart Ying County at noon sharp. Instruct the servants to purchase more medicinal herbs in the county."
After waiting for several days, the order to depart had finally come. The military officers collectively breathed a sigh of relief, all sharing a single thought:
Lady Dai's illness has finally recovered.
Military orders are urgent. In less than half an hour, everything was packed, items to be left behind were settled, and everyone in the residence had efficiently prepared.
Not everyone was accompanying Qin Shaozong south; Yan San was left behind in Ying County.
The Yan family was a collateral branch personally raised up by Qin Shaozong. After Yan Da and Yan Er successively died in the war against the northern kingdom, Yan San, who had always been the most outstanding among the Yan descendants, received even greater responsibility.
Ying County was no ordinary county now. With the advent of refined salt, it also represented the money purse of the northern territories. Yan San's task was to guard this purse well, a testament to the importance of his assignment.
Daili shared a carriage with Nianxia and Bipo.
Listening to the rumble of wheels on the official road and the fading clamor of the city, Daili slowly lowered her gaze.
For the first time, she felt no unease about leaving a city behind.
She was heading south, closer to Qiantang, and perhaps also closer to Zhou Zhou...
Gaoling County, Yanzhou.
The Fan clan of Yanzhou was a prominent local family. Tracing its roots, one could go back two hundred years to a period of internal strife involving imperial in-laws. The Fan family contributed to quelling the rebellion and was thus rewarded.
Of course, it wasn't a monumental feat. Otherwise, they would have put down roots in Chang'an back then, not moved to Yanzhou.
However, the founding ancestor of the Fan family was a clever man. Not only did he start from nothing, but he also excellently nurtured the next two generations of heirs. Leveraging the prestige from their merit, the Fan family widely associated with the powerful and noble, gradually growing in strength within Yanzhou until they became a leading family.
But not every clan head was astute. The Fan family later suffered a lack of capable successors, declining to the point of withdrawing from Yanzhou's elite circles. The turning point came with Fan Tianshi's father. He was a man of considerable wisdom and resourcefulness, pulling the family back from the brink. Unfortunately, heaven envied his talent. Just as he had rescued the family from decline and was rolling up his sleeves for greater endeavors, he was taken by a sudden illness.
Fan Tianshi was not as outstanding as his father, but he was certainly far more capable than the average person—better than most, if not the very best.
Supported by the family's earlier wealth, the Fan residence was enormous. The main reception hall, the principal bedchamber, the rear gardens, the guest courtyards—each was at least three times the size of those in a typical wealthy household. The estate even housed a menagerie where wolves were kept.
There were many courtyards within the residence. Some housed retainers, others advisors, and still others sheltered adopted orphans and sworn sons.
Whether it was an oversight or a touch of a 'survival of the fittest' mentality, all the orphan boys shared one courtyard. Next door to this courtyard, Fan Tianshi's two sworn sons were no exception; they also shared living quarters here.
"Well, look who's back, the busy one! Often nowhere to be seen. Have you been seducing someone else again? Not satisfied with enticing the Eighth Miss, you still have eyes for others? Truly, the appetite grows with eating. Let me offer you some friendly advice: you'd better tread carefully. Don't capsize in a ditch. Being kicked out of the Fan residence would be the least of your worries."
After this torrent of sarcasm from Pingwei, the newcomer continued walking without pause, as if he hadn't heard. This ignited Pingwei's anger. "Quanjie! I'm talking to you!"
The figure stopped and turned around.
A black ghost-patterned mask reflected cold glints of sunlight, its ferocious designs seeming to writhe to life, utterly repulsive.
He stood around eight feet tall, wearing a simple black-grey curved-hem robe tied with a plain belt, without any adornments. Perhaps still growing, his frame lacked the solidness of a mature man, appearing somewhat slender and lean.
"My interactions with the Eighth Miss are merely passing acquaintances. If you continue speaking so recklessly, I will not cover for you when our sworn father holds you accountable." Quanjie's voice was unpleasant, carrying an ineradicable hoarseness, as if his throat were damaged.
Hearing this, Pingwei's face contorted, its handsomeness instantly diminished by half. "Passing acquaintances? How can you have the nerve to say that? If it's just passing acquaintances, why does the Eighth Miss come here every few days? Why does she ask every time if you're here? And why does she send you gifts!"
Quanjie merely stood his ground, the mask making his expression unreadable.
Pingwei was consumed with jealousy.
That was the Eighth Miss, the most beloved legitimate daughter of his sworn father, Fan of Yanzhou. To gain her favor could mean transforming from a sworn son into a son-in-law.
That Eighth Miss, for some unknown reason, had previously looked down upon Quanjie, avoiding him like the plague, but a few days ago her attitude suddenly changed drastically. The difference was like night and day, as if she had been put under a spell.
The jealousy in Pingwei's heart had been simmered into a thick, poisonous brew, making every part of his body ache with discomfort. He couldn't control himself and began to speak of the past. "Seven years ago, you dragged your broken leg and knelt before the manor gate, kowtowing and begging to be taken in. Our foster father saw you wagging your tail and begging for pity, and his heart softened. That's why he led you into the manor and gave you a bite to eat. Taking you in as a foster son later was merely showing you favor. Do you really think you're someone now? You're just a house dog. How dare a beast aspire to climb so high?!"
"We are both foster sons. If I am a house dog, then so are you," Quanjie said calmly.
Pingwei was furious. Once he stepped out of this courtyard, he would have to put on his refined and gentle mask—respectful to his superiors, courteous to those below. No one knew the resentment and frustration simmering inside him. Only when facing Quanjie, another foster son, could he fully vent the poisonous fire in his heart. "Enough. I'm not like you. I've recently contacted a distant uncle of mine. He's now a county magistrate. He unexpectedly lost his son last year and now wants to adopt me. I'll have a family soon. And you? You'll remain a lonely ghost. If you die out there one day, no one will shed a single tear for you!"
"Then go and tell our foster father. Tell him you don't want to be his foster son anymore," Quanjie remained unperturbed, like a stagnant pool of dead water. Whether the wind blew or stones were thrown in, it could not stir the slightest ripple.
Having said that, Quanjie turned his head away, stepped past him, and headed towards the side room.
Pingwei choked for a moment. Realizing he had been countered, his anger surged even more. "We're both orphans. What are you so smug about? I was kidnapped and sold by traffickers, that's why I drifted from place to place. And you? Your birth parents abandoned you, didn't they? No, perhaps you brought misfortune upon them, causing them to die untimely deaths, each meeting a bad end..."
The word "end" remained stuck in his throat, unable to be uttered.
It wasn't that Pingwei didn't want to say it, but he couldn't speak at that moment. A pale hand was gripping his neck. As that scar-covered hand tightened, Pingwei's face rapidly turned crimson, his eyes beginning to bulge.
Both his hands instinctively grabbed the other's arm, trying to free his pitiful neck, but he was shocked to discover the other's strength was astonishingly great.
Quanjie turned his head back. The ghost mask on his face was still eerily cold, but what frightened Pingwei more now were the eyes behind the mask.
Cold, chillingly sinister, enough to make one's hair stand on end, like terrifying waves capable of swallowing a person rising on a dead sea.
He wanted to kill him.
A massive shockwave hit Pingwei's heart. He tried to roar that he was also the foster father's son, and if he died, Quanjie would certainly face severe consequences.
The hand on his neck suddenly loosened. Pingwei immediately bent over, gasping for air.
A few words drifted down from above. "Don't be so noisy next time."
Flat and bland. He had turned back into a pool of dead water, as if that dead sea had never stirred any waves.
Ignoring Pingwei, who was still coughing violently, Quanjie turned and returned to his room.
The room was extremely simple, with no decorations inside. The table and chair were the most ordinary kind. The room contained nothing more than a table, a chair, a bed, and a few wooden cabinets.
What seemed utterly out of place in this room was an ornately packaged brocade box placed on the table. The outer layer of the box was wrapped in silk, and a faint fragrance wafted from it. It was clear at a glance that the item inside was of considerable value.
Quanjie did not touch the box. He walked directly to the window on the west side of the room and pushed open the tightly shut window. The wind blew in, carrying away the scent left by the brocade box.
Quanjie was about to turn around when his gaze swept past a red kite caught in a tree not far away, and he suddenly froze.
That large tree was not within the courtyard where he lived, nor was it even within the Fan Manor. However, because it grew exceptionally tall, it could be seen even from inside the Fan Manor. A bright red kite was tangled in the high branches, very much like a child's kite accidentally caught there while flying.
Quanjie stared at the red kite for a moment, then left his room again.
Pingwei was still in the courtyard. Seeing him come out of the room, he instinctively wanted to sneer a word or two, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his throat burned with pain, silencing him.
Watching that departing figure, Pingwei gritted his teeth. That scoundrel Quanjie must be going to seduce Eighth Miss again. No, he couldn't just sit idly by and do nothing.
...
Quanjie did not leave the Fan Manor. Instead, he went to the servants' quarters in the west. This was a common dormitory housing many household servants, including gatekeepers.
Compared to other servants, gatekeepers were among those who left the manor relatively more often, so maids and attendants would occasionally ask them to buy things.
On the way, he encountered others. An old gatekeeper said with a smile, "Quanjie, here to see Old Zhang for your goods again?"
Quanjie nodded silently and walked past him into the room where Old Zhang stayed.
Faint whispers drifted from behind.
"I've been in the manor for over three years. Quanjie is still as strange as ever. It seems besides being somewhat familiar with Old Zhang, he has no connections with anyone else."
"I've been here for over five years, and he's always been like this. Some people at least answer when asked a question. He doesn't speak even when others ask, like a mute, with a wooden personality. A real oddball."
"Shh, not so loud. He hasn't gone far yet. In the past, it was different. Everyone knew the master raised his foster sons like dogs, and more than a dozen have died that way. But times have changed. I heard Eighth Miss has somehow suddenly taken a fancy to him. Who knows, he might fly up the branch and become a phoenix."
"It's not that easy. Eighth Miss is the master's most beloved legitimate daughter. Do you think Quanjie is the son of a provincial governor? He's just a lowly servant, with no father, no mother, and no power. Even if Eighth Miss doesn't mind his filth and ugliness, the master would never allow it."
...
Quanjie entered the small room, leaving the voices behind completely. At the moment, there were only two people in the room: Old Zhang, the gatekeeper he was looking for, and a retainer who had worked the night shift yesterday and was now resting.
"You're here," Old Zhang said, lifting his eyes at the sound of footsteps, appearing honest and slow. He took out a small paper packet from a cabinet. "Here, this is what you asked me to buy before. Recently, that shop has been short on supplies, business is tough, and the prices are going up..."
He lifted his eyes. His somewhat dull gaze suddenly changed—sharp, shrewd, like a snake awakening from hibernation. "But the shopkeeper said you're an old customer, and every transaction has been very smooth. So, if you pay for the next two batches upfront, not only will he not raise your price, he'll even give you a discount."
Old Zhang lived in the common dormitory. The sleeping retainer was not far away. There was no door separating them; one could see the other's every move just by turning their head.
The retainer turned over, mumbled something, scratched his arm, and continued sleeping.
The awakened serpent has returned to hibernation. The sharpness in Old Zhang's eyes faded, and he reverted to being that taciturn gatekeeper. Quanjie placed the paper packet inside his robe, then returned to his own room without a word.
Once the door was securely closed, he took out the packet, set aside a portion of fish maw contained within, and retrieved a folded sheet of mulberry bark paper.
The paper was covered with writing, densely packed, appearing to be several utterly unremarkable nursery rhymes. Quanjie studied it for a moment, extracted the hidden information, then fetched a flint to light the candle on the table and promptly burned the mulberry bark paper.
The flame had just died when a knock came at the door.
"Quanjie, the Benefactor summons you. Go to the study at once." It was a servant delivering the message.
Quanjie acknowledged, tidied everything, and left his quarters.
The Prefectural Governor's study was located in a heavily guarded area of the estate. Upon entering this zone, one frequently encountered patrolling guards, while an intangible aura of opulence pressed upon the senses.
Soaring eaves and upturned corners, carved beams and painted rafters—each detail exuded solemnity and grandeur. The summer breeze stirred, causing the exotic planted shrubs to sway, their blossoms sending forth faint traces of fragrance.
The study door was shut tight. Quanjie knocked.
"Enter." A deep voice sounded from within.
He pushed the door open and entered. The moment he turned around after closing the door, two heavy words struck him.
"Kneel."
Quanjie lowered his gaze and silently sank to his knees.
A dark shadow suddenly lashed out, its speed so great it even whipped up a whooshing sound, followed immediately by—
Crack!
A long whip struck fiercely across his arm and shoulder blade. Quanjie's figure swayed slightly, but he did not utter a sound.
Fan Tianshi was past forty, with a broad forehead, pale complexion, and a light beard. He usually wore a smile, easily giving the impression of an amiable, approachable man. But at this moment, his smile was gone, his face inexplicably appearing sinister and cold to the extreme. "Do you know your fault?"
Quanjie kept his head bowed. "I beg my foster father to instruct me."
"A fine 'instruct me.' If you cannot remember, I don't mind giving you another reminder," Fan Tianshi said with a cold laugh.
The whip swept through the air, landing two more cracks on his body. Quanjie remained kneeling where he was. Apart from the initial slight sway, he afterward stood as immovable as a stone statue, enduring the blows.
Fan Tianshi was not a military man; after three lashes he was somewhat tired.
Placing the long whip on the desk, he suddenly softened his tone. "Quanjie, do not blame your father for being harsh with you. Seven years ago, the moment I saw you before the estate gates, I knew that young boy—who didn't wail in agony like an ordinary person even with a broken leg—possessed an inherently resilient nature. You could endure more hardship than others, bear what they could not. You might achieve great things in the future. That is why I permitted you to enter the estate and even sought out Xinglin for you."
"Quanjie dares not forget the great kindness of my foster father," Quanjie replied, still with bowed head, submissive and obedient.
Fan Tianshi gave a slight smile. "You are meticulous, more steady than Pingwei. You are the foster son I hold in highest regard. All you have done for the Fan family these years, I have seen. My heart is a clear mirror, I understand perfectly well. Your father places high hopes in you..."
His smile suddenly vanished, revealing a trace of malice. "But you have your own path. A man with bloodstained hands should not taint pure white. There are some people you should not even touch, let alone dare to yearn for. Do not let greed destroy you."
"Quanjie would not dare. Quanjie's heart is solely devoted to serving my foster father, to repay his life-saving grace. I have no other thoughts," said the man kneeling on the ground.
Fan Tianshi's tone softened completely as he moved on to other matters. "A merchant caravan from the north has arrived selling 'saltpeter.' This substance is rather suspicious; I suspect it is related to Qin Shaozong. Go and interrogate that caravan. Also, I have received word that a shipment of tribute goods from Ganxu Province is to be transported to Chang'an, taking the route through Heng Hui and the Fei River. It will arrive in Xinzhou in a few days. Take some men and handle it. Follow the usual method. Do it cleanly. Leave no trace behind."
Quanjie: "As you command."
Fan Tianshi rose from his seat, walked around the long desk, and helped Quanjie to his feet. He personally straightened Quanjie's lapels. "Go. Your father awaits good news."
The sun moved, the stars shifted. Amidst the tightly coordinated military advance, the northern army led by Qin Shaozong finally reached Guoyun County.
Guoyun County—this was the border area between Yan Province and Qing Province. To be more precise, Guoyun County belonged to Qing Province.
After setting up camp outside Guoyun County, Qin Shaozong once again received a warm invitation from Nangong Xiong.
"Madam, accompany me into the city."