Business Heroes
The Mohist stronghold, hidden deep within the mountain cave, was like a cocoon forgotten by time. The dim campfire flickered among the jagged stone walls, elongating and distorting the figures of Jing Zhi and the silent, fearful exiled Mohists behind her. The air was thick with the scents of rust, damp earth, the bitterness of herbs, and a profound distrust. Xiao Yuxuan's declaration of "stopping the war" for the artisans and the people was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, creating brief and weak ripples. In Jing Zhi's eyes, the frozen dam had cracked slightly, but it was far from collapsing or melting.
"The world under the shade of the locust tree?" Jing Zhi's voice was hoarse with weariness. Her gaze swept over the withered faces of the family members deep in the cave, finally settling on Xiao Yuxuan's face. "Such a grand vision. Yet the Mo family's remains are but embers in this cave. Senior Brother Ji Zhai's manuscripts are still here," she pointed to a wooden box wrapped in layers of oilcloth in the corner of the cave, "They are all diagrams of waterwheels, labor-saving looms, and improved agricultural tools, not a single one of them involving warfare. This is the last spark of the Mo family, and also their last line of defense." Her eyes were as sharp as ever. "You wish to borrow the power of the Mo family? You may. However, you must swear an oath: all your actions will be limited to civilian defense, never involving court politics, and never creating weapons of war! If you break this oath, the Mo family, even if it is reduced to dust, will burn the manuscripts and destroy the weapons, severing this lineage!"
The oath echoed in the cold cave. Meeting Jing Zhi's scrutinizing gaze, Xiao Yuxuan solemnly nodded: "I, Xiao, swear: the power I borrow from the Mohist school will be solely for protecting the people's chance to breathe and for mending the pain of division. If I betray this vow, may heaven and earth punish me." The oath was heavy, yet it also defined the boundaries of their fragile cooperation. Jing Zhi's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. She said nothing more, turned, and walked towards the pile of abandoned mechanical wreckage. She picked up her file again, and the clanging sound of it echoed in the cave, carrying a focused, desperate determination.
The cooperation was established in an extremely fragile way. Jing Zhi offered only limited assistance: a few extremely rudimentary maps marking the secret mountain paths leading from Hexi to the enemy state; a cleverly concealed compartment in a wooden box to hide anything of importance; and several packets of "track-avoidance powder" made from a mixture of special herbs and mineral powder to mask body odor and interfere with hunting dogs' tracking. As for Ji Zhai's manuscript, she guarded it with all her might, refusing to yield an inch. Xiao Yuxuan no longer pressed the matter. He solemnly buried the locust tree seed, a symbol of his faith, in a relatively dry crevice at the cave entrance, and poured several handfuls of clear mountain spring water over it.
"General, let me go with you!" Sheng Guo's voice was resolute and unwavering. His burly frame blocked the cave entrance, his only remaining right hand gripping the scarred arm shield tightly, his tiger-like eyes burning fiercely. "I can't stay in Hexi any longer! That dog Yan Song recognizes me! That bastard from Xuandao also recognizes me! Staying in the mountains is just a burden! Let me go! I'll shield you from swords and arrows, clear the way and blaze a trail!"
Xiao Yuxuan looked into Sheng Guo's eyes, where a fire of deep-seated hatred and a death wish burned within her, and his heart sank. He knew that if Sheng Guo stayed, she would only be consumed by hatred day and night, ultimately either driven to madness by revenge or dying in despair. He slowly nodded: "Alright. But this journey is not for revenge, but to pave the way for 'cessation of hostilities.' We must conceal our sharpness and hide the fire in our hearts. Is this achievable?"
Sheng Guo's chest heaved violently, his jaw clenched, and finally he managed to squeeze out two words through his teeth: "...Yes!"
Three days later, at the most chaotic trading post on the Hexi Corridor—the "Ghost Market." There were no permanent city walls, only a vast shantytown formed by abandoned fortresses and natural caves. The air was thick with the mingled scents of animal dung, cheap tobacco, rotting food, and shouts and curses in various languages. Ragged Di-Rong horse traders, Western Region merchants with turbans, shrewd Central Plains merchants, emaciated migrant laborers, and countless other unidentified, shifty-eyed figures, flowed like a murky river through this quagmire of deceit and violence.
Xiao Yuxuan had completely changed his appearance. He wore a faded, patched, dark blue coarse cloth jacket and trousers, and worn-out straw sandals. His face was covered with a "disguise cream" provided by Jing Zhi, a mixture of herbal juices and mud, giving his skin a weathered, sallow, and rough appearance. Several deep lines were deliberately drawn around his eyes and brows. His once upright posture was now slightly hunched, carrying the weariness and caution typical of a lowly merchant. He used the alias "Xu Mu," a down-on-his-luck merchant who traveled between Hexi and the border of an enemy country, selling cheap medicinal herbs. Sheng Guo, on the other hand, was disguised as his mute partner, "Shi Tou." He also had his face painted yellow, wore an ill-fitting, tattered sheepskin vest, and tried to shrink his burly body. His eyes were downcast as he silently carried a large, coarse linen bundle that smelled strongly of herbs.
They were mixed in with a ragtag caravan of small merchants hastily assembled and heading to the enemy country of "Beishuo City". The leader was a withered old man nicknamed "Old Pipe", with a brass pipe in his mouth, cloudy but shrewd eyes, and a bulging waist, obviously hiding weapons.
The journey through the border was fraught with peril. The checkpoints were like gaping maws of greed. Yan Song's henchmen were everywhere; wanted posters for Xiao Yuxuan and his cronies were plastered in every conspicuous place. Though the portraits were blurred by wind and sand, their sharp eyes and features still sent chills down the spine. French soldiers, armed with the portraits, searched every caravan like wolves, beating and kicking anyone suspicious and extorting money.
"Halt! What are you doing? Hand over your travel permit!" A burly man blocked the caravan, his gaze sweeping across each face like a knife, lingering particularly long on the imposing Sheng Guo.
"Sir, you've had a hard time!" The old man with the pipe immediately put on a fawning smile, skillfully handing over a travel permit and a small string of copper coins strung on a red cord. "This old man is taking a few men to Beishuo City to buy some cheap licorice and bupleurum, to exchange for some coarse salt to make a living..."
The captain weighed the copper coins in his hand, snorted, and glanced at Xiao Yuxuan and Sheng Guo: "These two are unfamiliar! What's wrong with their faces? Raise your heads!" He reached out to grab Xiao Yuxuan's chin.
Xiao Yuxuan's heart clenched, but his face instantly contorted into a humble smile, typical of low-level merchants, a smile tinged with both flattery and fear. He bent even lower, and at the same time, he discreetly crushed a small packet of "Tracing Powder" in his palm. A faint scent, a mixture of earthy and grassy smells, quietly wafted out: "Sir... I am Xu Mu. Hexi suffered a disaster, and I have developed malignant sores on my face... I'm afraid they will offend your eyes..." His voice was hoarse, thick with a rural accent.
The team, smelling the strange odor and noticing the suspicious scabs deliberately made on Xiao Yuxuan's sallow face, frowned in disgust and waved their hands: "Bad luck! Get lost! Next!"
The caravan passed through the checkpoint with trepidation. Xiao Yuxuan's back was soaked with cold sweat. Sheng Guo lowered her head, her knuckles white as she clenched the bundles, suppressed anger burning silently in her chest.
Upon entering enemy territory, the situation did not improve. The shadow of war still loomed over this land. Villages were desolate, fields lay barren, and ragged women and children shivered in the cold wind. The towering walls of Beishuo City stretched into the distance, and long queues formed at the city gates, mostly families of emaciated refugees. Di Rong soldiers, wielding curved swords, patrolled the ranks, their eyes fierce. Any hesitation was met with a lash of their whips, eliciting suppressed cries of pain.
"Have you heard? There's fighting again in the west! This time it's the Left Wise King's army, which has plundered several tribes, taking all their cattle, sheep, and women!"
"Alas... there's no peace anywhere in this world... I've heard that in the Hexi region of the Great Qin Dynasty to the south, there are also countless people starving to death..."
"That's right! Just a few days ago, there was a group of refugees who fled from Hexi. They said that the local government there is even more ruthless than the Di and Rong people. Not only did they cede territory and pay reparations, they also conscripted men to fill mine pits, where they were worked to death!"
"Shh... Keep your voice down! The patrolmen might hear you..."
Inside the caravan, several merchants conversed in hushed tones, their voices numb and desperate. Xiao Yuxuan listened silently, a heavy weight pressing on his heart. The meat grinder of war had crushed far more than just the lives of those in Hexi.
The "West Market" within Beishuo City was a gathering place for low-level vendors and the poor. The narrow streets, overflowing with sewage, were crammed with low, dilapidated stalls. The air was thick with the mixed stench of animal manure, cheap grease, rotting vegetable leaves, and sweat. Xiao Yuxuan rented a cramped stall right next to a stinking ditch, barely enough to fit him. He unwrapped a coarse linen bundle, revealing cheap medicinal herbs like licorice and bupleurum, of varying quality and with a strong, unpleasant odor.
"Top-quality licorice! Soothes the throat and relieves sore throat! Bupleurum reduces fever and relieves depression! Don't miss out! Cheap sale!" Xiao Yuxuan imitated the tone of the surrounding vendors, hoarsely shouting, but his eyes, like those of a hawk, silently scanned the passersby, capturing every fragment of information about people's hardships and border developments.
Sheng Guo squatted silently beside the stall, like a real stone, warily observing his surroundings. His burly figure and taciturn demeanor became an invisible deterrent in the chaotic West Market, making some petty thugs hesitate to approach.
Business was slow. Most of the buyers were thin, pale-faced poor people, clutching a few worn-out copper coins, carefully buying a small amount of licorice root, just to keep their elderly or children at home from persistent coughs alive. Xiao Yuxuan accepted everyone without hesitation, often even grabbing an extra handful to give to the buyers. His rough fingers, when weighing the herbs, moved with an almost imperceptible steadiness and precision.
One evening at dusk, as the market was closing up, an old Di Rong herdsman, dressed in a tattered sheepskin coat and with a weathered face, paced anxiously at the entrance of the West Market, leading two emaciated goats. He didn't understand the Central Plains dialect, and gestured, pointing to the goats, then to his cracked, bleeding lips and throat, emitting painful, hoarse sounds, his eyes filled with despair.
The surrounding vendors either avoided him with disgust or shook their heads indifferently. The old herdsman was isolated and helpless, like withered grass about to be extinguished in the cold wind.
Xiao Yuxuan watched silently. He packed up the cloth, walked to the old herdsman, and without saying a word, pointed to his throat. Then, from his meager remaining medicinal herbs, he took a small handful of licorice root and a few mint leaves, wrapped them in a clean cloth, and placed them in the old herdsman's rough hands. He then pointed to the ditch beside him and made a gesture as if to boil them.
The old herdsman was stunned, his cloudy eyes filled with disbelief and astonishment. He looked at the medicine packet in his hand, then at the sallow-faced merchant from the Central Plains before him, his lips trembling. Finally, he awkwardly bent down, bowed deeply in the manner of the Di Rong people, and led his sheep away unsteadily.
This scene was witnessed by a thin, middle-aged man who was leaning against a wall not far away, arms crossed, watching coldly. The man was wearing a worn gray cloth robe, like a down-on-his-luck accountant, but his eyes were unusually sharp, and a playful smile played on his lips.
A few days later, a small commotion broke out in the West Market. A group of refugees who had fled from the border, many of whom had contracted the plague and were suffering from high fever and cough, were brutally driven away by the fierce Di Rong patrol soldiers. They were not allowed to enter the West Market to beg, and some were even threatened with being thrown out of the city to die! The refugees cried out and struggled, and the scene was chaotic.
Xiao Yuxuan squeezed through the crowd, looking at the faces contorted with despair and illness, at the whips raised high by the Di Rong soldiers, and a quiet compassion welled up in his chest once more. He took a deep breath, pushed through the crowd, and walked to the leading Di Rong squad leader, his face still bearing that humble merchant's smile, gesturing in broken Di Rong:
"Sir, please calm down! These people... are seriously ill. If we throw them out... they'll surely die. And if they die... the stench will be unbearable, making it easier to spread the disease... which is bad for the city." He pointed to his herbal medicine stall. "I... know a little about herbs... perhaps... I can make them... quiet down... and stop them from causing trouble?"
The sergeant looked suspiciously at the sallow-faced merchant from the Central Plains, then glanced at the wailing refugees, and frowned. Finally, perhaps finding it troublesome, or perhaps realizing the wisdom in Xiao Yuxuan's words, he cracked his whip and roared impatiently, "Get over there in the corner! Don't block the way! If you dare cause trouble, I'll chop you up too!"
Xiao Yuxuan hurriedly nodded and bowed, then called to Sheng Guo. The two of them laboriously helped several of the sickest refugees to a relatively sheltered corner. He rummaged through his medicine bag and found the only remaining herbs that were suitable for their symptoms—the Bizong Powder given by Jing Zhi happened to contain several excipients that could reduce fever and inflammation. He asked Sheng Guo to find some clean snow water, while he squatted on the dirty ground, crushed the herbs with a stone, mixed them with the snow water, and carefully fed them to the delirious patients.
His movements were focused and steady, without the slightest hint of disgust. His sallow face was smeared with mud, and sweat streamed down the deliberately drawn wrinkles. Around him were numb onlookers, hushed whispers, and the wary gazes of the Di Rong soldiers.
"Look at those merchants from the Central Plains... they've got some nerve..."
"I've heard they know a bit about herbs? I wonder if it'll even work..."
"Hmph, all pretense! Do you think Di Gou will let him have an easy time?"
The middle-aged man in gray robes who had been secretly observing was now standing in the crowd not far away, watching Xiao Yuxuan's focused rescue efforts amidst the filth. The playfulness in his eyes was gradually replaced by a deep scrutiny.
In the stillness of the night, inside the cramped shed, Xiao Yuxuan, by the dim light of an oil lamp, sketched with charcoal pencil on a salvaged wooden board several valuable pieces of information he had gathered that day: the pattern of garrison rotation in Beishuo City, the complaints of the lower-class Di Rong people in the West Market about the looting by the Left Wise King's tribe, and the locations of several Di Rong herder settlements who might resonate with the "stop the war" ideal and were now desperate... He carefully placed the board into the specially made, double-layered wooden box that Jing Zhi had crafted.
Sheng Guo sat on a straw mat in the corner, silently wiping the arm shield. The dim light illuminated the deep lines of hatred etched on his face, his eyes still like a frozen volcano. He couldn't understand, much less forgive, Xiao Yuxuan's actions in treating the Di Rong refugees during the day. Those Di Rong people were the enemies who had slaughtered Hexi and killed his loved ones!
“General…” Sheng Guo’s voice was low and hoarse, breaking the silence, “Why did you save those Di dogs? Why?” His words were filled with immense pain and confusion.
Xiao Yuxuan put down his charcoal pencil and looked at Sheng Guo. The light from the oil lamp danced in his deep eyes, illuminating the starry sky that had been enlightened by Yun Youzi, a sky that transcended hatred.
“Stone,” he said calmly, using the pseudonym Sheng Guo, “look at those sick Di Rong people, the artisans drained dry in Black Stone Fortress, the refugees starving to death on the walls of Anyi, and the women and children slaughtered by the Wei River… are they any different?”
Sheng Guo froze, her lips moved, but no sound came out. The ice of hatred was cracked open by this sudden question.
"We are all made of flesh and blood, all fear death and yearn for survival, all swept up and crushed by the chaotic torrent of this world, powerless to resist." Xiao Yuxuan's voice was like a sigh. "'The way to stop war' is not to stop war for the Di and Rong tribes, nor for the Qin Dynasty. It is to seek a way to survive for all living beings in this world who have been wounded by war and trapped by suffering. This way requires bridging the divide in people's hearts and understanding the ultimate truth that all things are one." He pointed to the simple sketch in the wooden box. "What we are doing is to find that tiny 'gap' in this seemingly impossible chasm."
Sheng Guo lowered his head, looking at the congealed blood and brains of his enemy on the shield, then at his own rough hands. A deep-seated hatred clashed violently within him with the grand and compassionate imagery in the general's words, causing him to painfully close his eyes.
Just then!
"Tap!"
A very faint, crisp sound, like a woodpecker tapping a tree trunk, came without warning from the thatched roof of the shed!
Xiao Yuxuan's pupils suddenly contracted! Almost instinctively, he kicked over the oil lamp in front of him! The shed was instantly plunged into darkness!
"laugh!"
A jet-black crossbow bolt with a small barb at the end grazed the spot where Xiao Yuxuan's head had just been and embedded itself hard in the earthen wall behind him! A tiny, ferocious bronze beast head was clearly engraved on the end of the bolt!
A sword hangs in the air!
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