Chapter 32

"...Feng Laosi suddenly grabbed the knife from Dahu beside him and swung it at me. Ninth Master blocked it with his shoulder—that's how he saved my life!" A Sen sobbed, wiping away what seemed like an endless stream of tears with the back of his hand. "If I'd known this would happen, when Feng Laosi caught me, I should have bitten him. In a fit of rage, he would have killed me..."

"Nonsense!" Fu Tingjun scolded him in a low voice while carefully lifting the right side of Zhao Jiuye's robe. "Since Ninth Master was willing to shield you with his own body, he regards you as a blood brother. How could you say such things? Wouldn't that make his sacrifice meaningless? How do you think he'd feel if he heard you?" She finished speaking and couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath.

Zhao Jiuye's right shoulder was haphazardly wrapped with several strips of cloth, clearly torn from old garments. The blood had soaked through the bindings completely, staining his clothes all over.

No wonder he'd chosen to wear dark-colored clothing.

Fu Tingjun's heart ached as if twisted by knives.

No wonder his face was pale and he drank water in great gulps.

He must have already felt unwell back at the City God Temple, hadn't he?

He had still given her the dagger for protection.

He must have sensed then that his injury was severe, feared he wouldn't make it safely to Xi'an Prefecture, and that was why he'd done so.

But she had refused his kindness and pushed all the responsibility of protection onto him... And what a pity—she'd even thrown a tantrum and sat stubbornly on the cart... Pushing the cart required arm strength, and his injury was to the shoulder... He never let her walk normally, but since then, whenever she wanted to get down and walk, he never stopped her—it must have been because the wound pained him too much!

Fu Tingjun was filled with regret and self-loathing.

She regretted her own carelessness and hated her own willful indulgence.

Tears blurred her vision.

Now he was wounded and unconscious—it was her turn to protect him, just as he had once protected her.

Even as she thought this, she knew all too well the disparity in strength between them.

What was she to do?

How could she find a doctor to treat him? How could she get him out of here? How could she reach Xi'an Prefecture safely?

The very thought made Fu Tingjun's legs go weak.

No matter what, she couldn't let him lose his life here!

He was so young, with such a promising future...

She thought of her maternal uncle's family's misfortune.

Perhaps her eldest cousin's two sons might have grown up to pass the imperial examinations, become top scholars, enter the Grand Secretariat, and rise to become renowned ministers—but all of that had come to nothing because the two children had died young...

She couldn't let his future be cut short here either!

Fu Tingjun wiped her tears vigorously.

She called out to "A Sen": "I can see that you and Ninth Master are both very familiar with this area. Do you know where the nearest town is?"

"What do you plan to do, miss?" A Sen asked, his eyes red. "These are famine years—those towns are probably full of refugees, not to mention gangs that specialize in bullying outsiders. Without Ninth Master to protect us, even if the refugees don't rob us, those gangs certainly won't let us be!"

"I know!" Fu Tingjun said. "But where there's a town, there's a doctor. No matter what, we have to go and see—we can't just stay here forever, can we? The midday sun is so scorching, and there's not even a patch of shade. If Ninth Master keeps baking in this sun, I'm afraid he'll get dehydrated. And if refugees pass by, those with wicked hearts would rob us just the same. Besides, I have no intention of entering the town itself."

A Sen looked at her in confusion.

"Since all those refugees will be flocking to the towns to beg, there probably won't be anyone resting at the City God Temple." Fu Tingjun revealed her plan to A Sen. "You and I will take Ninth Master to the City God Temple to settle in, and you'll go to the town to see if you can find a doctor. If you can bring one back, that would be best. If not, then you'll go to Xi'an Prefecture—it's only two days' journey from here. Your Brother Yucheng and Brother Yuanbao should both be in Xi'an Prefecture, right? Rather than dragging Ninth Master along an uncertain road toward Xi'an, it would be better to have your brothers Yucheng and Yuanbao come to meet us..."

Larger villages would all have a City God Temple, let alone a town.

Before she could finish speaking, A Sen jumped up excitedly: "Ah! How could I have forgotten about Brother Yucheng and Brother Yuanbao! Miss, that's a brilliant idea. We can ride horses here and reach Xi'an Prefecture in a single day." He added, "I know there's a town called Linchun about thirty li from here, on the main road from Xi'an Prefecture to Lantian County. I don't know if there's a doctor there, but I do know there's a City God Temple at the east end of town."

Fu Tingjun's spirits lifted at this: "Do you still remember the way?"

"I do!" A Sen said. "I went there once with Third Master."

"Good!" Fu Tingjun stood up. "We're going to Linchun Town."

A Sen nodded vigorously.

Together, they lifted Zhao Jiuye onto the cart—one steadying the cart, the other pushing it—lurching along, stopping and starting, until they finally reached Linchun Town as darkness fell.

During this time, Fu Tingjun had fed water to Zhao Jiuye three times. The last time, Zhao Jiuye asked drowsily where they were going.

"To Linchun Town," she said. "According to A Sen, it's quite bustling there. Maybe we can find a doctor."

Zhao Jiuye didn't respond. He tilted his head and fell back asleep, whether agreeing with her choice or not having heard her clearly at all, she couldn't tell.

...

The City God Temple at the eastern end of Linchun Town was not large either—behind the three-bay main hall were five or six side rooms.

When they entered, there was only one man in the main hall of the temple. He was crouching in the southwest corner, using three stones to prop up an iron pot and boiling something over a fire. The firelight illuminated his face full of coarse flesh, making him look fierce and brutish. When he saw them come in, he merely glanced up indifferently before lowering his head to watch what was in the pot.

Fu Tingjun felt the atmosphere in the temple was very strange.

She quickly scanned the hall.

By comparison, it was kept fairly clean, as if someone regularly stayed here.

How could there be only one person?

She signaled to A Sen with her eyes and saw that his expression was also uneasy.

"Did you notice anything?" Fu Tingjun asked him in a low voice.

"How strange," A Sen whispered. "Why is there only one person?"

He had thought the same as her.

A Sen glanced at the coarse-faced man and said, "I remember there are several side rooms in the back. How about we settle in one of the side rooms? With only one entrance, it would be easier to guard."

If Qi Ye and the books were here, Fu Tingjun would have no objection. But the one making the suggestion was A Sen... He was not only a child, but also wounded. If a skilled fighter were to charge in—say, that coarse-faced fellow—it would be like catching a turtle in a jar!

"Let's just rest in the woods outside the temple!" Fu Tingjun said. "The trees in that grove are all dead, but at least there's some cover..."

As she was speaking, someone called out from outside the temple door: "Is anyone in there?" With the shout, a tall, slender man walked in.

He was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with fair skin and a regular, handsome face. He wore a cocoon silk robe whose color was hard to discern in the dim light, cinched with a belt, looking neat and capable—somewhat like a shopkeeper.

Seeing the scene in the hall, he too was somewhat surprised. After a brief pause, he clasped his hands toward Fu Tingjun and the others and said with a smile, "Traveling far from home, I ask you all for your kindness—we'd like to borrow this place for the night."

Fu Tingjun hadn't even decided for herself whether to stay, so of course she didn't speak up. Strangely, the coarse-faced man also said nothing, making the atmosphere even more eerie.

The man, however, didn't seem bothered. He turned and said something toward the temple door, and three men filed in.

They were all in their early twenties. One was stocky with sharp, piercing eyes, pushing a small cart loaded with miscellaneous goods; one was of medium build, with an ordinary face but an easygoing, free-spirited demeanor, carrying nothing; one was handsome with clear features and a friendly look, carrying a bundle on his back. They all wore cocoon silk clothing with belts.

The stocky man announced upon entering: "This place isn't bad." His voice was booming, almost deafening.

A Sen suddenly pressed close to Fu Tingjun and whispered, "Miss, this man is trained in martial arts."

A chill ran through Fu Tingyun. The stocky man had already clasped his hands toward her: "Miss, there are many of us. We'd like to rest in the northwest corner. Would you be so kind as to make way?"

Only then did Fu Tingjun realize that where she stood was blocking their path.

She quickly lowered her head and stepped aside.

The men walked past her.

The shopkeeper-like man and the stocky man glanced curiously at Zhao Jiuye lying on the small cart, while the medium-built man's gaze lingered on Fu Tingjun for a long while. The handsome, clear-featured man first followed the stocky man's gaze toward Zhao Jiuye, then, seeing the medium-built man studying Fu Tingjun, turned his own gaze to her as well.

"Miss," A Sen said in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, "perhaps you should stay in the main hall? Those four don't seem like bad people. I'll go to town now and be back within half an hour at most."

In crowded places, one's sense of safety usually multiplies.

Fu Tingjun was no exception.

She looked at the shadowy darkness outside the temple and nodded. "Then go early and come back soon!"

A Sen acknowledged.

Fu Tingjun thought for a moment and chose the southeast corner, far from both groups of men.

She spread out a straw mat, and together with A Sen, they lifted Zhao Jiuye onto it. Then they used the small cart to block the front, enclosing their resting area into a dead corner. A Sen went off to town, and Fu Tingjun found her dagger and placed it beneath the straw mat. She called softly to Ninth Master: "...Have some water!"

Zhao Jiuye opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused. He shook his head drowsily, then closed his eyes and sank back into deep sleep.

Her heart trembled. Forgetting all propriety between men and women, she reached out and touched his forehead.

Burning hot!

Fu Tingjun grew anxious. She wet a cloth and wiped his forehead, desperately trying to recall how her wet nurse had cared for her when she caught a chill as a child.

The best course would be to clean the wound with salt water and re-bandage it.

But she didn't know how to bandage, and didn't dare touch the cloth strips.

If only Zhao Jiuye would wake up—even for a moment—and tell her how to wrap the bandages!

She wrung out another cloth and placed it on his forehead.

A commotion arose.

The group in the northwest corner had already packed up their bedding. Hearing the noise, they all looked toward the temple gate.

But the man standing in the northwest corner didn't even lift his head.

The commotion grew closer—men's laughter and curses, along with women's screams and sobs.

Torchlight dyed the sky red.

Fu Tingjun thought of the scene when Fourth Lord Feng had appeared that day.

Her expression tightened, and she gripped the dagger in her hand.