Chapter 47: The Fall of the Third-Rank Scholar
"So what happened?"
Sitting in the carriage, Shaman brought out Xie Huailing's late-night snack while asking her superior, who seemed to have been contemplating life for an hour and had entered a state of selflessness, what was she pondering? She had been chatting with the people from Liufenbantang for almost half the night; surely she hadn't been enlightened at the opera house?
Faced with Shaman's confusion, Xie Huailing stared intently at the porridge that had just been heated in the small kitchen of the opera house. The steaming porridge seemed like some kind of death warrant; in short, her stomach churned without any desire to eat. Considering the vast difference in their fighting strength, she tried to make a deal with Shaman, saying, "How about this, I'll tell you what happened, and you drink the porridge for me."
Shaman replied without hesitation, "No. If I make this deal with you, the landlord will be calling me to his study tomorrow to deduct money from my pay."
Xie Huailing replied, "But Shaman, it's me who pays you every month."
Shaman's veins throbbed as he said, "Do you have to say things that make me want to die?"
Xie Huailing added, "But it was the porridge you served that attacked me first."
The two, superior and subordinate, sat in the carriage, exchanging glances, feeling that the phrase "mutual loathing" had never been so apt. The carriage wheels rolled over the cobblestones, and a little snow drifted in through the gaps in the curtains. Looking out, the street was a silvery mirror of snow; the bright moon hung high like a jade plate, yet its light was obscured. Only the white of the snow existed, and the whiteness made everything else inconspicuous. In this atmosphere, they remained silent, their mouths tightly shut, neither willing to yield.
Shaman softened and said something that was already extremely difficult for her. She really didn't understand why there would be people in the world who were so resistant to food: "Hurry up and eat. When we get back to the building, the master will teach you calligraphy. If you don't drink the porridge, he'll find out immediately."
Little did Xie Huailing know that these words made her eyes widen, unaware that Su Mengzhen had other plans. To prevent her from running away halfway, Su Mengzhen had learned to arrange the itinerary unexpectedly, but now that Shaman had betrayed her, Xie Huailing shook her head vigorously.
She looked exactly like she was going to the execution ground, saying, "Wait a minute, I just remembered I have something to do. Let's take a detour to another place. I really do have something to do."
She really wanted to sleep outside.
The advantage of having a perpetually expressionless face is that Shaman really can't tell she's lying. Fortunately, Su Mengzhen had warned Shaman about Xie Huailing's numerous past offenses, so Shaman didn't listen to her: "The host said to go back first, this is not up to me."
Xie Huailing had no choice but to hope that Su Mengzhen would be asleep or busy with other things when she returned.
She lifted the carriage curtain to look at the night view outside. The carriage continued its smooth journey, and she could already glimpse a corner of the Golden Wind and Drizzle Pavilion, which stood out against the inky black sky like a side stroke in a traditional Chinese ink painting. The snowy night was so quiet that there was no extra sound. It was late at night, and only in the depths of the night did she realize how heavy the snow was, how much it had absorbed. The endless snow made the carriage seem to float on undulating waves.
Bianjing is a sea without water, a very cold sea.
Passing through an alley, I could see the light of two lanterns. Under their light, a thinly dressed old woman, her back hunched, walked along, then stopped to straighten her back. Behind her was a small noodle stall; it was closing time, and she wearily took down her lantern, and so the stall fell asleep there as well.
“That’s strange,” Xie Huailing said.
“What’s strange?” Shaman asked.
Xie Huailing made room for Shaman: "When we close, will someone collect the lanterns first and then pack up the things?"
Shaman didn't care much. She had also stayed up until dawn many nights before, outside of Bianjing. She said, "What's the big deal? For ordinary people, lamp oil is expensive. Besides, people who do business year-round are used to packing things in the dark."
“But for an elderly person, this is still quite difficult, isn’t it?” Xie Huailing said.
Shaman understood the implications of this scene almost instantly. One hand rested on the hilt of her sword at her waist, while the other reached for the curtain to urge the driver to hurry up. However, Xie Huailing spoke her order to the driver before she could.
In stark contrast to Sharman's reaction, she said, "Find a place and park the car."
Shaman, puzzled, frowned and gripped the sword tighter and tighter: "Why is that? If there is an ambush, your safety should be our top priority, Miss."
Xie Huailing patted her shoulder, signaling her to calm down, and stated her judgment, not holding back her self-mockery, saying, "It can't be aimed at me. I always handle my own whereabouts. If I could be ambushed, I deserve to die."
She continued, "Although this place is far removed from wealth and status, it is still home to many ordinary people. It's not exactly a good place to carry out our schemes. The plots and schemes that would choose this location are probably all quite elaborate. Why don't we find a place to wait? Anyway, it's not yet noon, and the roads aren't exactly deserted. One more of us won't make a difference."
"Furthermore, Shaman, I have quite a lot of confidence in you."
Hearing her words and being suddenly praised, Shaman, who was a heroine among women, naturally wouldn't back down. She didn't particularly respect or fear her superior, but she knew Xie Huailing's abilities, and for a moment, she felt a surge of pride, saying only, "Alright, then I'll listen to Miss."
The carriage stopped not far away, not too far from the noodle stall.
The night was deep, and the air was cool and refreshing. It didn't take long, only about fifteen minutes. Xie Huailing couldn't discern anything, but the sharp-eared Shaman lowered the curtain, blew out the lamp, and the coachman hid elsewhere, making the carriage appear deserted.
Shaman mouthed to Xie Huailing, "There's the sound of fighting."
After waiting for less than a quarter of an hour, when Shaman could no longer hear any sound, she lifted the curtain and reached out her hand to Xie Huailing. She led Xie Huailing down from the carriage, and the two of them walked along the low wall, taking a detour to the back of the noodle stall. Shaman held her breath, as wary as a cat with its back arched, observing repeatedly with every step she took.
The wind blew through the withered branches and fallen leaves, sounding like an incessant weeping. A faint stench of blood was revealed after a few steps, a scent so intense that even the snow couldn't suppress it in this treacherous, lurking night. What had just transpired in the fighting was no longer a question; anything that roamed the night was the epitome of the cutthroat, life-or-death struggles of Bianjing. As they drew closer, the stench of blood grew stronger, until finally, at a corner, Shaman stopped.
What came into view were several black puddles of liquid, and the blackness was only due to the deep darkness of the night.
But this blackness is not actually black; it should be called blood.
Pools of blood dripped onto the ground, the last footprints left in the world when a person dies, and also an omen, a premonition that what follows will not be a pleasant scene.
In the deepest pool of blood, in the corner of a house, a man dressed in black lay with his head tilted to the side, a small knife protruding from his neck, utterly lifeless. The moonlight bathed him, as cold as his end. His sword lay beside him, its blade as sharp astonishing yet unstained by blood; its master had died before even engaging in combat.
This is death that happens extremely quickly; life and death are separated by only a moment. This is the essence of the martial world!
Xie Huailing said, "It seems that the scheme has not been carried out smoothly."
“I don’t know which gang it is, or maybe another one.” Shaman carefully examined the scene. “The people who set up the ambush should be far away now, probably chasing after us. This strike was extremely fierce, killing the killer with a single blow, but the strike was unsteady. I’m afraid the ambush has succeeded, and if they catch up, their chances of survival are slim. To set up an ambush against someone with such martial arts skills, what happened tonight is definitely a big deal.”
"A single fatal blow, or a grim chance of survival, is it? What if they catch up again?"
Xie Huailing seemed to be thinking about something, and her gaze fell on a spot in the courtyard, on several large vats: "I think, maybe not."
She stepped forward, touched the canopy pressing down on the vat, and looked in the opposite direction from what Shaman had said. With her keen eye, no detail escaped her notice: "The marks don't look right. Let's go check over there."
The place Xie Huailing was referring to was right behind the noodle stall. A fierce battle had recently taken place there; tables and chairs were broken, wooden pieces were scattered everywhere, some even half-buried in the mud, and bloodstains were everywhere, pools of blood everywhere. Two or three corpses had identical wounds on their necks and chests, almost drained of blood, leaving only a pungent, nauseating stench. This place was less like a civilian's backyard and more like a prison's torture chamber, or a bustling marketplace, the executioner's domain.
But Xie Huailing couldn't see any of that; she only saw one place.
A hideous trail of blood stretched across the ground, leaving a long, struggling line.
Following the trail of blood, at the entrance of the alley, lay a young man covered in blood, unconscious.
The young man had suffered countless sword wounds; his body was now completely stained with blood, a bloodstained mess. If he were to perish, this would be his final shroud. In this wretched state, Shaman drew her sword and parted the blood-clotted hair, finally revealing the young man's face to Xie Huailing. He was a handsome man, but sadly, he was unconscious and utterly devoid of color.
Judging from his clothing, he was the unfortunate man who had been ambushed tonight. Even on the verge of death, he managed to use a clever tactic, feinting an attack to lure the enemy away and escape in the chaos. Unfortunately, his injuries were too severe, and he still succumbed to his wounds.
Shaman was greatly shocked, not by the young man's injuries, but by the sense of familiarity she felt. She blurted out a name: "Li Xunhuan!"
Fortunately, she didn't forget to lower her voice. After calling out his name, she turned to look at Xie Huailing, as if she needed Xie Huailing to make a decision: "I won't mistake him. Before returning to Bianjing, I had met 'Little Li Tanhua' a few times. This is him! When did he enter Bianjing, and who attacked him here?"
But it had to be Li Xunhuan. How could it be Li Xunhuan? Xie Huailing understood what Shaman meant. She wasn't referring to Li Xunhuan's martial arts skills, nor his Little Li Flying Dagger, but to his family background.
With seven Jinshi (successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations) from one family, three of whom were Tan Hua (third-place finishers in the imperial examinations), and the grandfather still holding a prominent official position in the court, who wants to take the life of Li Yuan's son? Who dares to do this?
...Who can do this?
When Shaman realized this, her palms began to turn cold. She looked at Xie Huailing, who knew she knew even more than she had imagined.
But Xie Huailing wasn't afraid.
Aside from Su Mengzhen, no one else would know what she was scheming, plotting, or what was weighing on her mind at that moment. She acted decisively, without a moment's hesitation. For her, such a situation and such developments required no hesitation; everything in the world could be an opportunity for her: "Go to the Divine Marquis's Mansion."
"What?"
"Go to the Divine Marquis's Mansion. The Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion is too far, and Li Xunhuan might not make it. Go to the Divine Marquis's Mansion first, and you can stop the bleeding for him in the carriage."
Xie Huailing remained calm, as if she were simply saying that she didn't want to eat again.
Looking at her face and her eyes, Shaman miraculously calmed down, all her inner turmoil soothed. Xie Huailing standing there was like a pillar of stability. Shaman never forgot that the person beside her was perhaps the most intelligent woman in the world.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com