After the autumnal equinox, the Taihang Mountains seem gently draped by nature, immersed in a picturesque twilight. The setting sun's rays struggle to penetrate the hazy veil, but can only cast dappled shadows across the mountains. The slow, rolling sound of the wheels over fallen leaves is like a layer of damp cotton wool, dull and oppressive, as if telling of the vicissitudes of this mountain road.
Su Jinli sat quietly in the carriage, her slender fingertips gently tracing the apricot-yellow gauze curtains. As she fiddled with the mud on the carved window lattice, it gradually transformed into a distorted fox face. This mud had been splashed there the day before, when the young Marquis Su was mischievously shooting birds with his slingshot. Now, in the gradually sinking light, it glowed a dark brown, as if tinged with mystery by the deepening dusk. Outside the window, dead leaves swirled like tired butterflies, gently bumping against the wooden planks of the carriage. The veins of the leaves still held the lingering frost of the early morning, a hint of coolness permeating them. Yet, in a flash, they were crushed to dust by the merciless wheels, vanishing on the silent mountain road.
"What are you reading, Madam?" Jiang Yan gently closed the book, but the subtle sound seemed to break the quiet atmosphere, startling the sparrows perched on the eaves. In his hand, the "Dajing Code" with the gold-plated "Xing" character on the blue cloth cover flickered in the twilight, as if reminding people of the majesty of the law. As Jiang Yan spoke, he stroked the black jade ring on his thumb. The water lines in the jade material slowly flowed with his movements, and compared to the one he pawned three months ago, it had an exquisite lotus pattern. This unique pattern was specially carved by the Queen Mother according to the fox painting by Su Jinli, and it carries a deep friendship.
"Look at this mountain road." Su Jinli's fingertips rested on the tip of the mud-speckled fox's tail, her gaze darting out the window. Outside, withered vines grew wildly along the steep cliffs, like savage monsters. A glimpse of a broken road sign peeked through the vines, adding a touch of mystery and eeriness to the gloom. "It's just like 'Ghostly Sorrow Stream,' from 'Mountain and Wilderness Weird Tales,' where storytellers always say bandits drink from human ears." Her voice was soft, yet it carried a chill that crept quietly through the enclosed carriage.
As the words left his mouth, the sharp snap of a dead branch suddenly echoed from the front, a startling sound in the stillness of the forest. Then, Young Marquis Su's energetic yet tinged with anger pierced the dusk, shaking the yellow leaves from the trees to the ground, as if even the forest itself was shaken by the roar. "Who are you? How dare you block my path!" The young man slashed hard at the bowl-thick locust tree with his toy broadsword. The red silk on the blade's tassel instantly tangled in the branches, and as he moved, he tore off half a piece of bark, a testament to his fury and anxiety.
Jiang Yan's hand, originally intended to lift the curtain, now froze in mid-air. The jade pendant, still untied, dangled from the hook of his belt. The mutton-fat jade pendant gleamed with a cool light in the twilight, a reflection of his calm yet vigilant state of mind. At that moment, dozens of dark figures emerged from behind the ochre-colored rocks like ghosts, like evil spirits suddenly emerging from the darkness of the forest. The leader, a massive figure, carried a ghost-headed sword, its tassel adorned with three dried "human ears." At first glance, it was truly terrifying, but upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be made of sheepskin saltpeter, its edges still bearing fine stitching marks. In the dim light, it appeared even more hideous and terrifying, as if announcing their ferocity.
"This mountain is mine!" The bandit leader's voice, hoarse as a broken gong, seemed to have been repeatedly honed by the raging sandstorms of the Taihang Mountains. His rasping roar startled the birds nesting in the forest, which fluttered their wings and fluttered in panic. "Leave all the treasures in the cart, and I'll spare your bodies!" He said, taking a heavy half step forward. The fallen leaves under his straw sandals made a damp, muffled sound, revealing the leather wristbands around his calves, branded with a twisted peach blossom. Su Jinli's eyes were instantly drawn to the peach blossom, and she remembered it as the emblem of the Jiangnan Booksellers Alliance. A hint of doubt quietly grew in her heart.
At the same moment, a sudden shriek erupted from the carriage next door, its piercing sound piercing the stillness of the forest. Then, Su Qingyao's furious curse reached her: "Who's that blind, filthy bastard? I haven't even applied my newly mixed 'Riverbank Red' rouge yet!" The carriage shook violently, presumably from her frantically stuffing the rouge box into her dressing table. The jade-inlaid comb clattered against the wooden planks, making a resounding clang, adding to the tense atmosphere.
Jiang Yan's fingertips gently rubbed the rope wrapped around the hilt, and the familiar touch made him feel calm. The Qingfeng Sword in the sheath seemed to sense the fighting spirit of its master, making a subtle sound, as if it couldn't wait to be unsheathed to meet the enemy. He subconsciously protected Su Jinli deeper into the carriage, and the cuffs of his moon-white brocade robe lightly brushed the fox fur cloak at her knees, his movements gentle but firm. However, at this moment, his hand touched the bulging oil-paper bag at her waist, and his movements suddenly paused. He knew that it was the chili powder she brought from Yangzhou, which was now swaying gently with the bumps of the carriage, as if it was also accumulating strength for the impending crisis.
The Taihang Mountains in the twilight resembled a scroll stained with ink, deep and oppressive. Only the sheepskin ear on the bandit leader's scabbard swayed in the wind, contrasting with the red silk scabbard dropped by Young Marquis Su, creating an eerie and peculiar scene. Su Jinli gazed out the window at the faintly visible bookstore badge on the masked man's waist, her doubts growing stronger. She suddenly remembered the secret letter from the Jiangnan Booksellers Alliance she had seen at the post station three days prior, and her thoughts were instantly drawn back to that scene. Her fingertips unconsciously twisted the hemp rope sealing the oil-paper wrapping, her eyes growing deeper. In this tense atmosphere, she seemed to be contemplating a response. The tip of the mud-speckled fox's tail was inadvertently scratched three inches deeper, as if recording this thrilling encounter.
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