Chapter 36

Time waits for no one; Gu Wan and Xie Ci did not linger over their words. After hastily assuring each other of their safety, Gu Wan waved at him, turned, and disappeared into the shadowy woods. Xie Ci watched as she tossed her sword to her left hand, grabbed a branch with her right, and slipped swiftly among the trees, her figure soon vanishing from sight. Zhang Qing craned his neck, nervous. “Master, do you think we’ll finally find out who that person is this time?”

Xie Ci kept his gaze until she was truly gone, then looked up at the sky. The northeast wind from the grasslands whipped the heavy clouds into rolling waves. He replied, "I don't know."

All they could do now was wait.

On Gu Wan’s side, as she and Qin Ying hurried after the group, Chen Luo waved them over. They quickly ducked into the tall grass. Unseen insects fluttered around. In a low voice, Chen Luo told them that Chen Lang had already been boxed up and sent onto a boat.

Within the wrecked woods, the group’s plan unfolded smoothly; there was no need to turn ambush into slaughter. After capturing their target, they raced through rugged mountains, prepared for everything, forging ahead through thorns and brush, soon reaching the banks of a tributary of Lake Hu.

Clusters of fresh reeds and aquatic plants swayed in the wind; night birds beat their wings and rose into the darkness. Several covered boats, hidden in the shadows of tall trees and reed beds, pushed out to meet them.

Those waiting on the boats were overjoyed. They quickly brought out a large camphor chest, freed Chen Lang from the fishing net, bound his hands and feet tightly with leather cords, and locked him inside.

Gu Wan craned her neck, glimpsing two burly men on the boat swiftly lifting the chest into the cabin. With a shove of the oar, all jumped aboard, and the boats sped downstream, leaving the shore behind.

All was done swiftly and silently, completed under cover of night. In a blink, chaos was left behind; the light boats slipped through the water and vanished. Chen Luo waved, and their group hurried in pursuit.

The captors were extremely vigilant, scanning the banks and water surface with drawn blades. It was impossible to follow by water. Fortunately, Gu Wan’s group was well prepared; this tributary leading to Lake Hu was a focal point, with hidden sentry posts every so often along the ridge. Even if rough terrain stalled them, they quickly circled back and continued pursuit along the shore.

The night was deep, wind rustling leaves, clouds flowing thickly, sometimes allowing a sliver of moonlight to spill, only to hide again. On the water and banks, both sides pressed on, unaware of each other's presence, racing against time.

Chen Lang, locked in the camphor chest within the boat, opened his eyes immediately. He’d been struck hard at the nape earlier, but resisted, his neck burning. Pretending to be knocked out, he now sensed the boat’s rocking. Opening one eye, he glanced around and pressed the face of a special ring Gu Wan had given him against the chest wall. From inside emerged a small, razor-sharp sword.

Gu Wan had taught him the gestures—how to position his hands when bound. He opened his fist, letting the sword reach the leather cord.

He scraped for a long time, finally slicing halfway through the cord. When the knot loosened, he yanked his hand free.

The chest had two air holes. Chen Lang quickly peered out, but saw only the old, dark boat cover. Muttering to himself, he withdrew his head.

He struggled to detach a brass buckle from his boot side, which doubled as a tiny mirror. He pulled out various small items from his boot top, sole, belt, and cuffs—little packets of resin-based powder. Dabbing some on his finger, he carefully applied it to the sides of his nose and cheeks using the mirror and the scant light.

He had spent this period practicing Xie Ci’s disguise under Gu Wan’s critique, finally achieving a semblance of perfection. In order to carry these items, he hadn’t even brought a dagger for self-defense.

Chen Lang was nervous—dear heavens, they must keep up, don’t let him die! He regretted not having a larger house, thinking three courtyards were too few, two at least!

After meticulously applying the disguise, he checked his appearance in the mirror, satisfied it was his best effort. He packed everything away, re-looped the leather cord, stitched the halfway-cut spot with a needle, adjusted his posture, and hurried to rest.

It wasn’t lack of concern—he needed to conserve energy, or he’d be unable to escape when it mattered. Chen Lang’s mission was to serve as bait, to lure out the mastermind.

So far, everything was going smoothly.

Zhao Chengwen and his group sped along the tributary, merging with Lake Hu before dawn. By midday, they left Yuzhou’s jurisdiction, arriving at Min County to rendezvous with their contacts.

Here, they finally showed hints of joy. Zhao Chengwen sent a message to Fanyang, then disguised themselves as a merchant caravan, escorting “Xie Ci” eastward.

In the grand protectorate of Andong, late that night, a messenger hawk landed on the iron rack of the eastern tower’s hawk room. Rapid footsteps climbed from the corridor to the side door. Lu Xinyi, lying in bed, sprang upright. The main door swung open with a creak. “Has Zhao Chengwen really captured Xie Ci?!”

Under the deep night, the wind lamp spun wildly, Lu Xinyi stood barefoot on the plush carpet, his heart thundering. “Is it true?”

“Did they really capture Xie Ci?”

He was both jubilant and dubious; while not impossible, the actual success brought disbelief and suspicion, especially for someone as deeply paranoid as Lu Xinyi.

“Follow the original plan—take him to Yan Prefecture. Chen Fen, you go in person and verify if it’s truly him!” Xie Ci, and Xie Mingming—Lu Xinyi paced anxiously, issuing orders.

Chen Fen: “Yes!”

Chen Lang spent seven or eight days in the chest, feeling himself shuttled about by water and land. On the seventh day, he heard urgent new footsteps, followed by the sound of unlocking.

The lid was flung open, doors wide; after days without sunlight, his eyes stung. Before he could curse, a hand reached in and tilted his face up.

Chen Lang’s heart pounded, but fortunately, the person merely lifted his chin forcefully.

Chen Fen brushed aside his messy hair; the youth’s eyes were fierce and resentful, his hoarse voice full of hatred, his beautiful, striking gaze brimming with anger and stunning allure.

“Who are you?! Are you him? Let me out! You bastard—”

The youth spat on his face in hatred; Chen Fen turned his head to avoid it.

He had met Xie Ci a few times, when the latter was twelve or thirteen, but Xie Ci would never remember such insignificant background players. Lu Xinyi was a master painter; he had studied the portrait many times.

Chen Lang struggled violently; Chen Fen held his chin, scrutinized his features, finally wiped his cheek and brow with a damp cloth. Chen Lang broke free and cursed.

Chen Fen checked the cloth—it was clean. He finally released him. “Yes, it is him.”

“Send the messenger hawk, report to the master!”

Everyone showed visible joy, especially Zhao Chengwen.

Once the strong man in the thick veiled hat appeared, the mood in the inn’s back yard became lighter and jubilant, the suppressed excitement impossible to hide.

Gu Wan, Qin Ying, and their group breathed a collective sigh of relief, their excitement rising. It meant the identity had been verified!

“Is this the mastermind?” Gu Wan and the others exchanged glances, but guessed not. Their suspicions were soon confirmed by the group’s actions.

Chen Fen quickly ordered them to pack up. The camphor chest was reloaded onto a cart, shuttled through several counties, and on the second night, instead of lodging, they abandoned all goods and headed straight for the outskirts with the chest.

“It’s happening!”

The crucial moment had come. Gu Wan couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Heavens, let all go smoothly.

They had chased relentlessly through mountains and forests, following the river, arriving disheveled and exhausted.

This was Yan Prefecture, an inland city; clearly, the other side was cautious, not intending to return “Xie Ci” to their base, guarding precisely against this scenario.

A shrewd, calculating adversary!

Both sides had matched wits, reaching the final step. Messenger hawks were too uncertain and hard to track, so they abandoned them, maximizing the chances of their “draw out the snake” plan.

Now, the final unveiling was at hand. Gu Wan’s nerves tightened.

The group followed stealthily, splitting into three teams; those with the best light-footed skills led, marking the path in secret. They finally arrived at a small grove under cover of night.

In the blackened night, they soon noticed sentries. A few skilled hands crawled through thorn bushes, managing to subdue one after great effort.

Even the rendezvous point was chosen at random, making tailing difficult, and preventing them from deducing the mastermind’s identity based on territory. Gu Wan’s group was disappointed.

But at least they weren’t in someone else’s stronghold; the benefit was that both sides were equally unfamiliar with the terrain.

Chen Luo searched the sentry’s body and shook his head—his stance and actions showed military training, but nothing on him gave away his identity.

Gu Wan and Qin Ying exchanged looks; clearly, their only chance to identify the mastermind was to see his face.

Even Qin Ying’s face was grim, her smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, murderous intent as she watched the direction Zhao Chengwen’s group had gone.

But killing was difficult; for successful tailing, their numbers had to be few.

Their best outcome was to see the mastermind’s face and rescue Chen Lang. As for the former, Gu Wan hadn’t dared hope—she always felt it wouldn’t be so easy. Yet, having made it this far, her hope grew.

Could fortune really turn? Was it possible? Would they succeed?

Chen Lang felt the cart bump and sway, the road growing rougher, until after a violent jolt lasting about a quarter hour, the scraping of branches stopped and the chest halted.

By moonlight, a dozen riders charged into the woods, reining in their mounts with shrill neighs, stopping by the cart. Chen Lang held his breath, knowing the moment had come.

He adjusted his posture, pressed himself against the chest corner, tightening the brow pencil in his hand.

The lock clicked open. Lu Xinyi stood at the cart’s front, Zhao Chengwen quickly jumped up and opened the lock. With a hiss, the lid was violently yanked open!

It was a full moon; the light flooded the dense woods. The chest was placed in an open spot, its lid suddenly thrown back. Chen Lang met the fierce eyes behind a silver mask.

Chen Lang: Damn!!

He cursed inwardly, as did Gu Wan.

They had snuck along, finally lurking under the shadow of a large rock on a hillside, wide-eyed, staring without blinking.

Gu Wan saw the dozen riders, led by a middle-aged man. She held her breath.

The middle-aged man in deep blue warrior’s garb stood before the cart; the veiled man and Zhao Chengwen bowed silently. This instinctive, habitual gesture, and the aura of authority and command, all confirmed for Gu Wan: this was absolutely their mastermind.

On the slope, silence reigned; the lid’s opening shattered the peace. Lu Xinyi and Chen Lang locked eyes—the former jerked up his gaze: You’re not Xie Ci—

A deep, furious voice.

Chen Fen was shocked: What?!

At that moment, Chen Lang hurled a handful of scraps outside—quick, save me! The man stepped back, moonlight glinting off his silver mask. The middle-aged man looked up; his face was covered with a bright silver metal mask—furrowed brows, snarling mouth, giant fangs, the visage of an evil demon.

Seeing the mask, Gu Wan nearly cursed aloud—damn, damn it! Even Xun Xiao never wore a mask, why the hell are you wearing one!

Her mood was a roller coaster; but she had no time for that, as Chen Lang screamed for help. Chen Luo pressed down with his palm, Gu Wan leaped up, Chen Luo threw with all his might, and Gu Wan sprang up like a night bird to the treetop, tossing a metal chain that landed precisely before Chen Lang, who caught it quickly.

Gu Wan yanked hard, Chen Lang kicked, and shot upward.

Chen Luo and Qin Ying were disappointed, but moved instantly; a sharp whistle, and they rushed down.

The last few members shook branches and thorns, pretending their numbers were greater.

The other side clearly had no intention to fight; Lu Xinyi’s face behind the silver mask was livid. When Chen Lang was rescued, he knew he’d been duped and had no desire to linger. Both sides exchanged only brief blows, then quickly separated and retreated.

Gu Wan’s group rescued Chen Lang, who sat in shock at the tree’s base.

They tried to pursue; Qin Ying dashed out of the woods with her sword, Gu Wan followed, but the avenue was ahead. Qin Ying stood panting, watching distant horses disappear in the night.

When tallying the results, their score was about seven out of ten.

They had successfully rooted out all the spies buried in their close guard units over the years—a critical victory.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t seen the mastermind’s face. But Chen Luo said: He’s short—a vital clue.

Gu Wan and Chen Luo weren’t sure if the enemy had left any backup in Yan Prefecture; after rescuing Chen Lang and seeing only the horses’ backs, they quickly withdrew, returning overnight to Yuzhou.

Chen Luo said the man was short, but actually not; compared to the likes of Qin Xian and Chen Yan, tall and burly, the enemy was half a head shorter—a medium build.

“So he can’t be Huo Can.”

In Yuzhou, Chen Yan and the others didn’t idle—they uprooted the entire spy network. With the spies gone, all hidden threats vanished, and Xie Ci no longer needed to disguise himself. He could move freely through the camp and the governor’s office.

Late at night, the lamps in Chen Yan’s study burned bright.

He wrote three names: Lu Xinyi, Zheng Shoufang, Huo Can. Qin Xian had spent a year investigating and narrowing down suspects, and Su Zhen and Chen Yan all agreed—three suspects.

Gu Wan’s group’s pursuit wasn’t fruitless; based on physique, Chen Yan immediately eliminated Huo Can.

Huo Can, like them, was tall.

Medium build—Lu Xinyi and Zheng Shoufang fit, about the same.

Yan Prefecture, to Andong, Fanyang, Yu Prefecture, and Shan’an—at full speed, all were two days’ ride.

On the return, Gu Wan and her group discussed this; Fanyang was closer, but they couldn’t judge by distance.

In the end, only two suspects remained.

Chen Yan said: “It’s already pretty good.”

An unexpected delight—the enemy’s scheme backfired, and they countered with their own.

Chen Yan spoke specifically to Xie Ci, worried the younger man’s expectations were too high. But Xie Ci was not disappointed; except for Gu Wan, no one present could fully understand the treacherous dangers he had faced.

By now, having joined the army, he was no longer the anxious, grieving Xie Ci of old. He was calm, not overly eager.

Seated in a grand armchair, Xie Ci said: “I understand, Uncle Chen, don’t worry.”

Good!

Chen Yan believed their victory was quite substantial. He took out an imperial edict and a military dispatch stamped with a tiger tally.

The order had arrived: within three days, five hundred thousand northern troops to assemble at Lu’an! Chen Yan said: “Tomorrow, we march to Lu’an.”

The seven-year brewing war was finally here. All sides mobilized, the northern army regrouped.

This was to be a great campaign.

It would reunite the old Xie family troops, and bring together Zheng Shoufang, Lu Xinyi, and others—forces from all regions merging.

Barring surprises, the outcome Xie Ci sought would be revealed here—the enemy’s mask torn away.

When they left the governor’s mansion, dawn was near.

The morning star lit their path; soon they would muster troops and depart. Horses rushed by, Xie Ci gazed eastward at the pale light, his heart surging with emotion.

He glanced at Gu Wan: “Let’s go.”

Qin Ying went to see Chen Lang off. Xie Ci and Gu Wan walked, waiting, leading their horses along the yellow earth road. Wild grasses and flowers grew lush by the roadside; the night wind carried scents of unknown blossoms and earth.

Gu Wan looked sideways at Xie Ci, his face bathed in the light of dawn, pale and soft. He stared toward the end of the road, toward the Yuzhou camp, his eyes bright and absent, lost in thought.

She whispered, “Are you disappointed?” She herself felt regret—it was so close, just a step away from knowing the culprit.

Between them, it was different than with Chen Yan, or even with Second Sister-in-law; Xie Ci never hid anything from Gu Wan. They always spoke frankly.

Xie Ci came back to himself, thought a moment: “A little disappointed, but not very.”

He tried to describe his feelings. “...I feel I’m very close to him.”

He stretched out his hand, clenching it tightly—a breath away, if he tried with all his might, he could reach him! Reach the enemy who destroyed his family.

“I want to catch him myself!” To repay blood for blood!

He glanced anxiously at Gu Wan; as soon as he spoke, he felt wrong. Such thoughts seemed unfair to Second Sister-in-law and Gu Wan, as if their hard work meant little to him.

But that wasn’t his intention. He corrected himself, “No, that’s not what I mean, I just…”

Gu Wan: “I understand, I understand.”

No need to rush, she truly did understand.

She quickly soothed Xie Ci’s anxious explanation. Ah, she really could empathize! That feeling of having exerted oneself for so long, eager to bring the culprit to justice, but if someone else did it, though grateful and excited, there was inevitably a sense of emptiness.

The victim’s family’s desire to exact tenfold, hundredfold vengeance—she understood.

Gu Wan understood deeply, for she had experienced it herself, knew too well the searing indignation, like a massive vessel crushing her heart again and again.

She spoke gently, “Who wouldn’t want that?”

Dawn approached, its soft light shrouding them. Gu Wan’s face and body were bathed in morning haze; her voice was light and slow, as gentle as the sky’s gauzy veil.

Xie Ci fell silent; nothing more needed to be said. She understood him.

Emotion surged, rushing to his head; Xie Ci’s eyes grew hot, and unable to restrain himself, he hugged Gu Wan tightly.

He blinked hard, dispelling the shimmer.

Gu Wan smiled, patting his back.

It will get better.

It already has, hasn’t it?

Yes!

He thought so too.

Xie Ci exhaled, then realized what he had done. In that instant, he felt the resilient softness of her form—the curve of life, vibrant and strong.

His emotions, already intense and tearful, spiked again; his entire body flushed, heart pounding, every point of contact burning with sensation.

Unlike any previous embrace, his soul trembled.

Wan-niang, I like...

He was so moved, he almost confessed his feelings.

Luckily, at the last moment, he remembered Zhang Qing and Zheng Ying behind them. Catching their wide-eyed looks, he slammed on the brakes.

Gu Wan: ???

Xie Ci let go, eyes still red, wiping them forcefully. He said softly, “It’s nothing.”

“I was just thinking, we’re about to leave Yuzhou.”

Gu Wan stepped back—the grass beneath her feet was soft, the muddy feeling gone, morning light enveloping them. In the distance, the Yuzhou camp rang with the clamor of arms and drums.

Yes, they were off to another distant place.

Gu Wan smiled back, hopped onto her horse, waved: “Well, let’s go then!” If they were late for muster, their reputation would suffer.

Her smile shone in the dawn, radiant as the rising sun.

She turned her horse, “Jia!”—hooves thundering, wind lifting her hair and robes, light and swift. Xie Ci vaulted onto his horse, riding beside her.

They rode side by side toward the clangor of arms.

Xie Ci glanced at Gu Wan, lips curled in a smile. He was lucky—to have her with him.

Youthful feelings surged and intertwined, overflowing; he could hardly look away until Gu Wan gazed into the distance and flicked her whip. Xie Ci spurred after her.

Through morning light, one after another, they swept with the wind.