“Leaving Chang’an?”
“Received an urgent report tonight,” Zhu Zi’an lowered his voice. “There are subtle movements from the Southern Beggars…some people have been trailing the exile convoy, heading west past Baxi Bridge onto Wuguan Road at dusk yesterday.”
Jiang Kui gave a start: “You suspect they are…”
“Trying to assassinate your family members.” He slightly knitted his brows. “Though the death sentence was revoked, to prevent the General’s Estate from rising again they can only resort to sinister means. To arrange an ambush along the exile route…truly the lowest of tactics.”
He took out a map from his sleeve to show Jiang Kui: “The enemy only has one chance to strike. It must be along the road heading to Blue Pass. We have to trail and protect the General’s Estate before they can make a move.”
“I’m getting my spear,” Jiang Kui nodded. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow at dawn,” Zhu Zi’an put the map away. “Meet me at Beiting Bridge.”
“Don’t worry,” he added. “I already have people keeping watch. Since they need to set up an ambush, it won’t happen too quickly. We have ample time to respond.”
“Alright,” she replied, drinking gloomily with lowered head.
He watched her for a bit before suddenly reaching to ruffle her hair, lightly brushed aside by her.
“What do you want?” She grumbled. “I said no touching!”
He gave a soft laugh and suddenly asked: “Jiang Xiaoman, are you hungry?”
“Hmm?” His abrupt topic change left her confused.
“I’m guessing tonight’s palace banquet food was pretty awful,” he leaned in, nudging the steaming buns closer to her. “How about having some? It’s the winter solstice today. I’ll keep you company with wine and buns.”
Before she could reply he picked up a bun and fed it right up to her mouth. Head lowered watching her puff up her cheeks slowly chewing and swallowing it down.
The piping hot steamed bun skin was thin and stuffed thickly with filling, mixed in with the fresh and rich soup broth that instantly warmed her entire body.
“How’s the taste?” He asked, a hint of anticipation lurking in his eyes.
“Mm…” she mumbled. “Surprisingly pretty tasty.”
After a brief pause she added softly: “I’m hungry now.”
“Then have another,” he started smiling and offered her another with his chopsticks.
The girl before him ate petite bites of buns while he smiled, propping up his chin to watch her.
Alongside rang out the cheerful clinks of toasting cups. Men and women patted each other’s shoulders as fragrant vapors of wine steamed up the entire room. A wisp of sweet feminine scent floated to his nose, gently warm amidst the tipsiness like a mist of drunken rain.
“Jiang Xiaoman,” he murmured. “A peaceful winter solstice to you.”
“To you as well, Zhu Zi’an,” she replied. “Peaceful winter solstice.”
The two lifted their cups, clinking across the table. The clear blue porcelain gave a bright ring, sending the wine’s glow rippling under the candle flames. The warmed strong liquor carried a hint of warmth, scorching hot, like a tiny blaze kindled inside the body.
She pondered briefly before taking away Zhu Zi’an’s wine cup and knocking the entire thing back in one go. She told him solemnly: “You’ve had plenty to drink. No more for you. I’m afraid you’ll pass out again.”
“I’m already drunk,” he said lightly, smiling.
“Truly?” She waved a hand before his eyes.
“Truly,” he answered lazily, closing his eyes for a second.
She leaned on one hand gazing at him for a while. The lone swaying candle flame over their heads shone onto his face, blurring his eyes as if they were faintly layered with clear wine.
He really was drunk, tiredly propping up his head as if about to fall asleep.
“Don’t sleep here,” she sighed. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”
“Mm,” he murmured, voice tinted with drunkness.
“I didn’t bring money,” she suddenly recalled. “You pay the wine bill.”
“Mm,” he said again without moving, completely muddled.
Clearly he didn’t quite understand her words. She confirmed that this guy was truly plastered.
So she moved behind him to hunt for the money pouch at his waist. He closed his eyes letting her search all over him until she finally dug out a chunk of coins that she heavily plunked onto the table.
“Paid the bill,” she shook him. “Get up, time to go home.”
He didn’t even manage a “mm”, just letting her shake him about with closed eyes. His entire body emitted that clear and cool alcoholic scent.
“How does someone like you get dead drunk just like that?” She said, quite helpless as she knocked his head again.
He didn’t stir at all so she sighed once more. She grabbed his sleeve dragging him to stand and walked him forwards. He moved along with closed eyes, quiet and tranquil, docile and obedient like an obedient rag doll.
Two people moved one after another squeezing through the crowd in that tiny tavern. Swaying candles burned overhead while drunken guests filled both sides. The faint pipa resembled a sudden spring rain, scattering flecks landing amidst their fluttering sleeves.
Jiang Kui pushed the door open, pulling along that completely sloshed person.
The door shut behind them. The din faded like receding tides and the street was silent without wind.
She lifted her face under the lanterns. Flecks of white fluttered down as if flower petals, stopping before her.
She reacted almost on instinct reaching out. Realizing it wasn’t petals but glittering snowflakes alighting in her palm.
“Look,” she said to the person beside her. “It’s snowing.”
Flurrying snow danced down from the heavens, blanketing the nearby trees and distant peaks in pure whiteness. The rooftops were covered in pristine snow while the gray tiles gleamed with a glossy sheen.
Silent as this between heaven and earth, yet also as if strains of celestial music drifted over faintly.
She pulled along that person walking down the long street. Fresh snow gathered atop both their shoulders.
A lone muted lantern hung from the eaves, stretching out their linked shadows. Two trails of footprints were left in the snow, leaning close as if wanting to keep each other company until daybreak.
On that first snowy night, they walked an extremely long way.
She led him to East Corner Tower Lane, bringing him into the upper-floor loft above the tailor’s shop. Still half sober, half awake, he drifted along like sleepwalking, letting her pull him inside and onto the bed where she tucked him in properly.
He was dead asleep as soon as he hit mattress, eyes shut deep in slumber. Still emitting the faint alcoholic scent, she reached out brushing the gathered snowflakes from his lashes that melted into clear, glistening drops atop her fingertips. Then slowly dissipated in the warm wind.
“See you tomorrow,” she said, standing in the doorway extinguishing the lights.
The next clear dawn Jiang Kui sat by the window wiping down her spear.
Upon returning to Eastern Palace last night Xie Wuyan had yet to arrive. According to Minister Gu he was delayed due to the falling snow while on his way back from Prince Wen’s estate.
She had slept very deeply, only vaguely remembering in the late night someone opening the door and sleeping fully dressed on the nearby reclining couch. This morning when she awoke Xie Wuyan was lying on the couch with his back to her, quilt covering over half his head.
After wiping her spear she wrapped it in undyed hemp cloth, then walked over to stand by the couch staring at Xie Wuyan.
…His ear lobes had slowly turned red.
Xie Wuyan heaved a sigh, opening his eyes to gently ask: “Does my wife need something?”
“I will be away from Eastern Palace for a few days,” she stated. “I’ve already informed Minister Gu of the specifics. He will arrange everything. For matters he is unsure of, tell him to ask you for decisions.”
“Very well,” he nodded slightly without asking her destination.
Jiang Kui picked up her spear, standing by the window for a pause before turning to look back at him and remind: “The winter days grow cold. Mind what you eat and drink properly with your illness. Take medicine on time.”
“I understand,” he nodded.
“And,” her tone turned severe. “No secretly eating cold foods.”
He turned his head away. “…Understood.”
Xie Wuyan closed his eyes to continue sleeping. Jiang Kui took her spear, somersaulting out the window heading north towards Beiting Bridge.
Beiting Bridge was located by the northern city walls, an unrepaired worn bridge broken halfway through the ninth arch. Beneath was a tranquil pool reflecting the skies like a mirror. As Master Pu Liu, Zhu Zi’an often came here. He would park a carriage atop the broken bridge, exchanging quiet words late into the night with wandering swordsmen.
On this frigid winter dawn, snow clouds hung low with distant peaks freshly cleared after the storm. Faint dawn light fell upon the bridge. A sheet of ice covered the pond below and shallow fresh snow had gathered overnight. Frost clung to the bankside trees. Some sparrows swept snow from themselves before fluttering back onto the branches in scurried beats.
A figure slowly walked over from the distance. He wore loose black robes, casually topping it with an overcoat. A longsword at his waist, casually strolling down the long street holding a jug of wine.
A clump of snow suddenly tumbled down from a tree branch, cracking loudly against the grey tiles of the road. And the street’s lone pedestrian abruptly vanished.
“You’re late,” the girl under the bridge arch scowled, glaring at the man before her. “It’s all because you got dead drunk yesterday.”
“My apologies,” Zhu Zi’an just laughed. “But it’s still early. No rush even with slow going.”
Jiang Kui grabbed that wine jug from his hand, weighing it before reproving: “And you still brought alcohol?”
“Oh valiant warrior, please return my wine,” he drawled lazily. “It’s too cold out. Need it to warm up.”
He quickly added: “Won’t get drunk again. I’ll drink in moderation.”
Jiang Kui assessed him for a while. He was putting on an act of fearing the cold, gently rubbing his hands as if half frozen stiff. So she shoved the jug back into his hands with stern warning: “Drink as little as possible.”
“As you command,” he chuckled softly, taking back the jug as he gestured towards the nearby city gates. “Shall we?”
“Not taking a carriage?”
“We’ll take a wagon from the city gates,” he replied. “Lu Eleven has gone on ahead to trail them. We’ll follow slowly.”
Under the sunny skies after snowfall, the two walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the silent street. Both sides had snow sliding down rooftops while the overhead sky was as clear as glass. Zhu Zi’an turned to glance at the girl beside him walking quietly, hugging the bundle of wrapped hemp cloth. A snowflake had landed in her hair.
His fingers twitched without reaching out, just waiting silently for the wind to blow the flake from her hair.
“Your first time leaving Chang’an, correct?” He asked.
“Mm. Furthest I’ve been is Baxi Bridge,” she nodded. “I’ve never known what’s beyond Chang’an.” She looked at him, “What about you?”
“I rarely leave Chang’an,” he gave a small smile. “But I’ve been to the eastern capital before.”
“Did you also take a wagon there?”
“How can a wagon get somewhere so distant?” He chuckled. “I went by boat. Left from Wei River, sailed along Yellow River until Luoyang.”
“How nice,” she mused. “I’ve never taken such a long boat trip.”
“Actually quite boring,” he recalled. “But I can take you if you’d like in the future.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
And so chatting blandly, at the city gates the two waited for the transport wagon.
It was a civilian wagon that crammed many people per ride, fitting around a dozen per copper coin.
The wagons ran on demand without set stations. Some headed for Tong Pass, some to Huazhou. Some went even further, winding over trails through Mount Qin towards Sichuan.
Heavy traffic flowed out the city before and after the seven day winter solstice break. The carriage crammed full of people in coarse hemp clothes and straw sandals. Some lugged poles out to the countryside peddling ceramics. Some packaged local snacks to visit relatives.
Zhu Zi’an brought Jiang Kui to stand in line squeezing amidst the crowds. Before boarding he slipped two heavy copper coins into a young boy’s palm. Then he pulled Jiang Kui along to squeeze into the packed carriage.
They sat deepest inside by bamboo baskets filled with brown eggs. Zhu Zi’an leaned forward pushing open the window beside them, letting in the cool morning breeze to dispel some stuffiness. He gave a satisfied nod.
“Zhu Zi’an,” she suddenly recalled something.
“Hm?”
“Was this the wagon ride trip you mentioned before?”
“Mm,” he nodded. “Just like this. Bring some coins and hop on whatever wagon comes. Get off when tired, wander the countryside for a bit. Beg some tea from a farmhouse then continue wandering aimlessly.”
“There’s a line from the classics,” he lowered his head to think. “‘Retiring my steed in Mt. Hua’s sunny side, setting oxen loose in Taolin’s fields.’ After I quit Jianghu I want days like those.” (T/N: From the Chinese classics Work of Wu Zhen, Book of Documents: ????????????????????????????”(After King Wu defeated Tyrant Zhou) He then set aside violence in favor of culture. Retiring steeds on Mt. Hua’s sunny side, setting oxen loose in Taolin’s countryside, showing All Under Heaven his lack of desire to conquer.” Beautiful.)
The rickety carriage slowly rode to the outskirts. Jiang Kui nudged Zhu Zi’an awake from under his coat. He poked his head out giving a lazy yawn before pulling her off the wagon.
“Got word from Lu Eleven this morning that General’s Estate convoy will stop at Three Stores Village,” he explained while walking. “We’ll head there tonight.”
He called out to an elderly cowherd by the roadside, trading a small parcel of coins for a cattle cart and rain cape. Throwing the cape on, he donned a woven bamboo coolie hat and leapt onto the driver’s seat, gently tugging the steering rope to slowly lead the cattle cart forth.
Jiang Kui hugged her knees sitting on the wooden planks behind him, leaning on one hand watching him competently driving the cattle cart.
Amidst the ding ding of copper bells, the great buffalo plodded down the road pulling the wooden cart. They slowly rolled over the small trail between the fields, distant mountains all around frosted pure white. Endless plains blown through by the long wind.
Much later, snow began drifting down from the sky’s edge. Dancing flakes floated onto the great wilderness.
“Ah,” Zhu Zi’an looked up towards the heavens. “It’s snowing.”
He seemed a bit vexed. “Should’ve asked for an extra rain cape. If I knew earlier…”
“It’s fine. Just keep driving,” came the ringing bells while Jiang Kui listened drowsily, giving a yawn. “I want to nap for a bit.”
“Can’t do. You’ll get wet. Catch cold,” he said very seriously. “Let’s wait for the snow to stop before going.”
He halted the cattle cart and put down the rope. Turning, he leapt onto the wooden planks and sat by Jiang Kui’s side.
She nodded off heavily when she suddenly heard rustling noises. Lifting her head, the person beside her spread out that rain cape, gently covering them both underneath.
Huddled together under the cape shoulder-to-shoulder, snow flurried down overhead. Layers upon layers piled up on the wilderness, slowly muffling all sounds until only that lone cattle cart remained with two people atop.
Amidst the endless borderless snow stretched pure, unblemished whiteness.
“Listen,” the person under the cape whispered. “The sound of falling snow.”
His laughter sounded. “When we get back, let’s light snow lanterns and build snowmen. Does that sound good?”
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