The sounds of snow falling filled the skies.
That person lay quietly in the accumulated snow with eyes softly shut.
Jiang Kui dismounted rushing over, reaching to help him up. Her fingertips abruptly touched a trace of dampness.
Her fingers gave a slight tremor. She realized he was bleeding. Crimson beads trickled from his cuffs, inch by inch staining his clothes. Drop by drop splattering into the snow, blooming into startling red.
She bit her lip, gently undoing his overcoat. His shoulder had a long slash through the fabric still oozing blood, yet the flow was extremely slow.
“Zhu Zi’an,” she shook him. “Wake up, don’t sleep in the snow.”
Hearing her call that name, he gave a soft murmur in response, dimly opening his eyes: “What is it?”
“You’re injured,” both anxious and pained she said: “Why didn’t you tell me!”
“Oh? Am I?” He smiled faintly. “I didn’t know. Probably that arrow I suppose.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?” She took out a white handkerchief, tearing off a strip of her own sleeve to bind him.
“No pain,” his tone was drowsy. “I’m fine.”
He shut his eyes again only to have her shake him awake once more. He looked at her, dizzy and sleepy-eyed. “Jiang Xiaoman…I’m so tired…” he mumbled.
“Don’t sleep,” fearing he wouldn’t wake if he slumbered too long. “Talk to me.”
After binding his wound she cautiously supported him onto her horse. Head bowed, he nearly slipped off several times. So she sat behind him, arms wrapped tightly around as he leaned limp against her.
“We’ll find shelter from the snow first,” she told him, flicking the reins to trot her mount through the snow, his riderless horse following behind.
“Jiang Xiaoman…I want to nap a bit…” he murmured softly.
“No sleeping allowed,” she held him securely. “Keep talking.”
“Talk about what?” He asked indistinctly.
“Childhood things,” she strained to keep him awake. “Remember anything fun back then?”
“Mm…” He shut his eyes. “When you were small you liked sneaking alcohol. That time you secretly drank Master’s treasured kaoliang and wuliangye collection…then privately watered down the wine jars…”
She blinked. “How do you remember things like this?”
He gave a soundless laugh. “Master punished you to practice spearmanship all night without dinner…Later, someone passed a sesame cake through the window that you took one bite of then started hacking from spiciness. Master’s heart softened so he let you out…”
She murmured softly: “So that person was you.”
Then she scoffed loudly: “I knew someone must be up to nonsense like that.”
“Mm…” He laughed very lightly. “I’m pretty terrible.”
“Was that cherry candy bomb you too then?” She pressed.
“Yeah…My apology gift to you…” His mind grew murkier, words broken up and disjointed.
“Don’t sleep,” she insisted. “Keep talking.”
“Can’t recall anything afterwards…” He panted shallowly: “Jiang Xiaoman…I’m truly exhausted…”
“Recite names,” she thought up something. “Keep reciting whatever names you can think of. Don’t stop.”
“Jiang Xiaoman,” he murmured gently.
She froze for a second hearing him repeat: “Jiang Xiaoman.”
“Jiang Xiaoman.”
“Jiang Xiaoman.”
That voice very softly held back in his throat, mellow yet pleasant, crisp and clean.
As if reciting her name countless times in dreams.
Soundless snow drifted down endlessly with the lengthy snowy road immersed in silence.
Amidst the soft beating wings of snow they rode together. All along he lightly recited her name, over and over without cease.
The snow showed no signs of stopping. The horse halted before a dilapidated temple.
Jiang Kui supported Zhu Zi’an off the mount, slowly walking him inside the temple. No longer having any strength to speak, he limply leaned against her, barely hanging onto consciousness.
She found a broken bamboo mat inside the temple, laying him down to rest. Shutting both eyes, his brows faintly knit as he gave the occasional soft cough. His complexion grew ever paler.
A thick bloody scent assaulted her nostrils. Undoing his overcoat her heart clenched realizing his shoulder wound still seeped. His bindings were completely soaked, ceaselessly spreading deeper red beneath him.
Clenching her teeth she tore another strip of her sleeve to rebind him, fingers shaking against his earlobe in the process.
Her heart skipped a beat. His temperature was shockingly low. Shivering fingertips trailed along his ear down his cheek and jaw, finally resting at his neck.
Every inch of his skin was icy to the touch, cold as unmelting frost and snow.
Even in such heavy snow…
Even after massive blood loss…
His body temperature was far too low for any living person.
“Zhu Zi’an…” Her voice quavered.
Hearing the confusion in her tone he struggled opening his eyes, looking at her with a faint smile: “I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I won’t die so easily.”
His tone held a reassuring quality. Gritting her teeth she helped change his bloodied bindings, tearing more cloth to rewrap his wound.
She stated firmly: “We’re going back to Chang’an. I’m taking you to Changhe Lane to find Imperial Physician Shen for treatment.”
He slowly shook his head: “We must escort the General’s Estate to Blue Pass.”
“Leave me here with a horse,” he went on. “I’ll ride back myself. You keep pursuing them.”
“But your injury—”
“It’s fine, just some blood loss. The bleeding will stop soon,” he cut her off. “After resting a spell just now I’m much better.”
She obviously didn’t believe him. Channeling inner energy to her fingertips, she moved to check his pulse and assess his condition.
She had just lifted her hand when he gently caught her wrist. Meeting her gaze he said in low tones: “Jiang Xiaoman, please don’t touch me…alright?”
Dying to ask why, she looked into his eyes and kept silent.
“I’m sorry,” his tone was gentle. “Did I upset you?”
“Mm…” She didn’t lift her head.
“Then…” He pondered hard. “How about I make up for it?”
She gave a start. “And just how do you plan on making up?”
“First…come closer to me,” he said, smiling softly.
She threw him a mystified look before slowly leaning down towards him.
A pleasant white plum fragrance wafted up to her nose, instantly diluting the heavy blood scent. He met her gaze, laughing now:
All of a sudden, he lightly hugged her.
Such a fleeting, feather-light embrace. Just as quickly he released her.
Pure good intentions without any untoward movements.
Yet she was stunned speechless.
Still smiling he looked to her: “Feel better now? Master taught me that a quick hug cheers my senior sister right up whenever she’s upset.”
“Where on earth did Master pick up such odd teachings?” She mumbled.
“From his own senior sister,” his tone held laughter. “Looks truly effective.”
“Very well. Let me rest a spell,” he shut both eyes with a soft cough. “I only need some sleep to recover.”
“Don’t you dare sleep without waking,” she warned gravely. “I’ve heard that in your weakened state, losing consciousness can inadvertently slip into eternal sleep.”
“I won’t fail to wake,” he answered without opening his eyes. “You’ll rouse me.”
“That is true, I suppose,” she considered aloud. “Then after you’ve rested I’ll ready our mounts separately. You take a horse back to Chang’an while I give chase to the General’s Estate.”
“Fine then,” he murmured before promptly falling asleep.
She watched him for a while, watching as he dozed off to the side. Carefully she draped the overcoat over him before turning to exit the temple seeking dry kindling and sticks.
By the time she returned arms full of firewood, Zhu Zi’an still slept on. She struck a match, building up flames beside him. Wavering firelight slowly raised the temple’s temperature with cozy, warm air.
Nightfall approached as the heavy snow gradually ceased. Birds nested down to rest.
She bent over gently shaking Zhu Zi’an awake. “Zhu Zi’an, time to rise.”
He remained motionless, complexion even paler than before.
She started inwardly, anxiously leaning in to check his breaths. They sounded awfully faint, each exhale stabbing painfully at her heart.
“Zhu Zi’an?” She called loudly.
He continued steeped in slumber.
“I’m taking you back to Chang’an right away,” she said softly.
Supporting him onto horseback, she whipped the reins flying back towards the capital. As night darkened his breathing grew ever lighter. The vague disquiet in her heart swelled stronger.
A full two days ride were needed to return to Chang’an. But in his current condition there wasn’t enough time to wait.
The Ba River flowed nearby. The fastest way back was by boat.
Clip clop clip clop — her horse’s hooves echoed down the snowy trail as Jiang Kui reined to a stop along the riverbank.
A small craft drifted lazily downstream carrying indistinct passengers. At the prow stood a scholarly man wearing a black gauze scholar’s hat, dressed in a green shirt. Behind him was a pretty, red-lipped young boy holding a pipa, fair of face and brow.
“Ahoy boatman!” Jiang Kui shouted from ashore. “Might we impose passage?”
Asking to come aboard is common practice for travelers going the same direction. The many merchant ships between Chang’an often picked up fellow wanderers, casually collecting nominal fares more for friendship’s sake.
“Is the young miss headed to Chang’an?” The boy asked over the green-clothed scholar before turning to yell back towards them.
“We are bound for Chang’an!” Jiang Kui replied loudly. “My injured friend needs urgent medical care in the capital. Kind boat master, may we trouble you for transit?”
The small craft slowly drifted closer. A boatman took out a long plank, flinging it forcefully onto the riverbank. Jiang Kui leapt off her horse to catch it. The board now bridged shore and boat to form a makeshift gangway.
Jiang Kui turned to support the slumbering Zhu Zi’an off the mount, walking him carefully over the bridge onto the small boat.
After exchanging courtesies, the boy helped Jiang Kui move the unconscious Zhu Zi’an below deck while the green-clothed scholar eyed him several times as if in recognition. His subsequent astonishment was evident: “Young miss, isn’t this friend of yours Master Pu Liu?”
His tone was gentle and mild: “No need for alarm, miss. Master Pu and I have some history in the martial world as business partners. We’ve been friends for years.”
“May I ask for this gentleman’s name?” Jiang Kui requested.
“This humble one bears the name of Gong Yang, given name Du. My courtesy name is Duzhi,” the scholar made a fist-in-palm bow.
“Master Gong!” Jiang Kui hurriedly returned the greeting.
She knew of Gong Yang Du’s fame. Aware that he associated with Zhu Zi’an.
This man headed the great Gang of Yue River Boatmen, sphere of influence centered around the Huai River region. His reputation in Jianghu was sterling—a gentleman swordsman of scholarly temperament, amicable and fond of friendship. Among the common people he was known for chivalry, often providing disaster relief hence his widespread popularity.
Gong’s activities centered around the Huai Xi area while Zhu Zi’an never left Chang’an. Their exchanges were primarily by post so despite familiarity they seldom met face-to-face. As such, Gong failed to instantly recognize Zhu Zi’an earlier.
“And for this gentleman to be Master Pu, then this young warrior lady must be the ‘Falling Flowers Spear’ Jiang!” Gong laughed brightly. “Of course, I recognize the spear across your back.”
He went on: “While undeserved, I do have some small medical knowledge. Would the young warrior permit me a look over Master Pu’s condition?”
Jiang Kui thanked him profusely. He lifted the canopy heading below deck.
A swaying storm lantern hung at the prow. Jiang Kui stood gazing beneath it. A gentle breeze passed as starlight shimmered along the rippling waters, silhouetting the far snow-veiled peaks.
After some time Gong reemerged above deck, seemingly hesitant as if to speak yet deciding otherwise.
“Please speak freely regarding his injuries,” Jiang Kui implored courteously.
Gong said slowly: “Is the young warrior aware that many years have passed since a certain sword style last openly appeared in Jianghu? The Xing Shuang style, as it was called.”
Jiang Kui nodded: “I’ve heard of it.”
“That man bears wounds consistent with Xing Shuang swords,” Gong uttered softly.
“…Wounds inflicted by the Xing Shuang style.”
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