Chapter 48

Unlike the murderous aura that filled Mo Yi's room, Zhao Ling's room was brimming with the joy of reunion.

"...The Feng family refused to say a word, but I knew the moment I heard it that it was Ninth Master's doing." Jin Yuanbao, who usually had gentle eyes, was now visibly agitated. "When we saw the marks A Sen had left behind, we were both shocked and overjoyed. We were just considering whether to have Sanfu disguise himself as a blind fortune-teller to cast a divination for that Mo Yi, to trick him into sending Ninth Master to Xi'an Prefecture. But then an epidemic broke out in Jiuligou, and people started fleeing toward Linchun Town. We figured the Master would never miss such an opportunity, so we stationed men at every city gate each night—and sure enough, Ninth Master slipped into the city under cover of darkness!"

Zhao Ling still reclined against the headboard, but a smile now played at the corners of his mouth, his former coldness nowhere to be seen. "We figured? I think it was you, Jin Yuanbao, who figured it out, wasn't it?" There was a hint of teasing in his tone.

Jin Yuanbao rubbed his head and laughed, his smile simple and honest.

"You've worked hard, all of you!" Ninth Master said with concern. "Are Sanfu and the others doing well?"

"They're all doing fine!" Jin Yuanbao replied. "They just miss Ninth Master and are hoping to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival with you soon!"

"Mid-Autumn Festival?" Zhao Ling's expression shifted slightly, a trace of wistfulness flashing through his eyes.

Jin Yuanbao noticed this and shot Yang Yucheng a meaningful glance, signaling him to say something comforting. But Yang Yucheng, who had seemed distracted ever since entering the room, straightened up and said with a smile, "Ninth Master, that Miss Fu—why didn't you send her on to Weinan? Could something have happened in her family again?"

Jin Yuanbao shot Yang Yucheng a look, as if reproaching him for bringing up such a topic at a time like this.

Zhao Ling saw Yang Yucheng's evasive gaze and couldn't help but laugh. "What are you thinking about? You ran into her at the gate, didn't you? Didn't you notice that Miss Fu is wearing mourning clothes?" As he spoke, his smile gradually faded. "Her uncle set up a porridge station in Fengyuan, which drew the covetous attention of those refugees. In the end, the refugees slaughtered his entire family..."

Jin Yuanbao and Yang Yucheng both fell silent.

In recent days, tragic incidents like this had been happening one after another. Governor Dong Hanwen had requested that the imperial court dispatch troops from the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission to suppress the unrest—this very incident was the excuse he used.

"Then... then what's to be done about Miss Fu?" Yang Yucheng said hesitantly. "We can't just keep bringing her along with us forever, can we?"

A Sen, who was crouching by the side-room door keeping watch, heard the tone in Yang Yucheng's voice—as if he were opposed to Zhao Ling bringing Fu Tingjun along. Remembering how kind Fu Tingjun had been to him these past days, and disregarding the rules Zhao Ling had set down, he piped up: "What's wrong with Miss Fu coming with us? She can cook, she can sew, and she knows how to take care of Ninth Master... I think it's just fine having her with us. It's not like we can't spare a bowl of rice for her."

"What do you know?" Yang Yucheng glared at A Sen. "Is this a matter of having a bowl of rice or not? When the adults are speaking, children shouldn't interrupt."

A Sen stole a glance at Zhao Ling. Seeing that Zhao Ling's expression remained calm and untroubled, he knew the Ninth Master wasn't angry with him, but he didn't dare say more. He muttered a few grumbles under his breath about Yang Yucheng and turned his face back toward the courtyard outside the side room.

"I was just thinking of asking Yuanbao to handle this matter," Zhao Ling said. "I had made a promise to Madam Fu back then, but I never expected so many things to happen along the way. Now the only option is to send someone to the Fu family to deliver a message to Madam Fu. We'll see what she has to say, and then we can make our plans accordingly!"

Was Ninth Master really prepared to see this matter through to the very end?

Jin Yuanbao hesitated. "Ninth Master, these are extraordinary times. Prince Jian and the notable gentry of Shaanxi are all taking refuge in Xi'an Prefecture, and the city is under tight security. Once the disaster situation eases and the city lifts its restrictions, the Feng family will certainly come looking for trouble. Xi'an Prefecture truly isn't a place for us to linger..." As he spoke, he noticed Ninth Master's brows furrow almost imperceptibly, and knew his mind was made up. He sighed inwardly and continued, "However, Miss Fu is now all alone. We can't very well leave without seeing her properly settled. I think I'll make a trip to Huayin. But I have no proof or credentials—Madam Fu may not believe me. I'll need Miss Fu to write a few lines for me to carry along..."

"How can you go?" Yang Yucheng immediately objected. "If you go, who's going to get our goods out of Xi'an Prefecture?" He turned to look at Zhao Ling. "Ninth Master, I think it would be better if I went instead?"

"Yuanbao will go," Zhao Ling said, overruling Yang Yucheng's suggestion. "Yuanbao has always been steady and cautious. This matter cannot afford any further mistakes—I'll feel more at ease with Yuanbao going. As for the token of proof, A Sen, go and inform Miss Fu."

A Sen acknowledged the order and left.

Zhao Ling said to Yang Yucheng, "You proceed with the original plan to settle Sanfu and the others. Those who are willing to come with us to Jiangnan may do so; those who aren't won't be forced. Give each of them their fair share, and we'll still be brothers whenever we meet again." Then he smiled. "Aren't you fond of keeping accounts? This time, it's your job!"

Yang Yucheng smiled somewhat sheepishly.

Zhao Ling's expression turned serious. "However, let me make something clear—once you follow us to Jiangnan, there's no coming back. From birth to death, sickness to old age, it will all be in Jiangnan."

This meant leaving their homeland behind forever.

Yang Yucheng nodded, all traces of his earlier playfulness gone from his expression. "Rest assured, Master. I'll make the arrangements, and I'll say what needs to be said."

Zhao Ling gave a slight nod.

A Sen knocked on the door and came in holding a silver bracelet. "The young lady said there's no need for a written message—just show this bracelet to Madam Fu."

Zhao Ling recognized it at once. It was the silver bracelet Madam Fu had asked him to pass along to Fu Tingjun that day. It was hollow inside and had once held two thousand taels of silver notes.

He nodded.

A Sen handed the silver bracelet to Jin Yuanbao.

Zhao Ling asked Jin Yuanbao, "Have you found out who this Mo Yi is and whether he has any connection to the military?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Jin Yuanbao said hesitantly. "I keep feeling it can't be possible!"

Zhao Ling raised an eyebrow.

Perhaps because the matter seemed too incredible, Jin Yuanbao's expression grew grave, and his voice unconsciously lowered. "The Marquis of Yingchuan, Meng Shu, bears the seal of General Who Pacifies the Qiang and guards Gansu. Under his command there's a Colonel of Roaming Cavalry named Mo Yi, a scion of the Mo clan of Luyi. His paternal uncle is Mo Shang, who bears the seal of General Who Subdues the Barbarians and guards Guangdong..."

Before he could finish, Zhao Ling's expression had already changed drastically.

One Sixteenth Master, and now it involved two great generals holding heavy troops guarding the western and southern frontiers...

Ninth Master had never been one to show his feelings outwardly, so why today...

The thought flashed through Yang Yucheng's mind, and his heart gave a sudden lurch. He exclaimed, "Could it be that this Mo Yi is that very Mo Yi?"

Zhao Ling said nothing.

A flicker of fear passed through Jin Yuanbao's eyes. "Then... then what do we do?"

Zhao Ling's expression was grim. "Yuanbao, you go to Huayin to deliver the message. When you see Madam Fu, make it clear to her that we can no longer send her letters. She'll need to find her own way to send someone to Xi'an Prefecture to see Miss Fu. And you don't need to come back—go straight to Jiangnan. Yucheng, you return now and take everyone who's willing to go to Jiangnan and leave tonight. Don't delay..."

"No!" The two stood up simultaneously and objected in unison. "If we go, we go together. Otherwise, none of us go."

Zhao Ling's eyes suddenly grew a little moist.

He smiled, and there was an indescribable ease and gratification in his smile.

"This isn't a matter of strength in numbers," Zhao Ling said with a chuckle. "With your skills, what could you accomplish by staying here? You'd only be a burden to me. Just follow my arrangements!" As he spoke, his expression darkened, his demeanor shifting abruptly—like a sword drawn from its sheath, radiating sharp brilliance and killing intent. "I'd like to see what Mo Yi can do to me."

"Ninth Master!" The two knew Zhao Ling's reasoning was sound, yet they found the arrangement hard to accept. They called out emotionally, but didn't know what else to say.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to me!" Zhao Ling raised an eyebrow, and a powerful confidence radiated from his eyes and brows, suddenly making him appear solemn and composed, with a faint air of one who looks down upon the world—the bearing of a king.

Yang Yucheng gritted his teeth. "Fine. I'll follow Ninth Master's arrangements."

Zhao Ling looked toward Jin Yuanbao.

Jin Yuanbao was silent for a moment, then raised his head. "I'll follow Ninth Master's arrangements too."

His gentle gaze was resolute and composed, lending his ordinary features a certain dignity and stature.

Zhao Ling smiled faintly. "You two had better not take matters into your own hands and ruin my plans."

Both their expressions shifted slightly.

Neither Yang Yucheng nor Jin Yuanbao had actually intended to leave—they simply knew Zhao Ling's temperament and knew that further argument would be pointless.

Both of them smiled awkwardly.

Zhao Ling warned them again: "Don't be presumptuous."

The two smiled bitterly, murmured their assent, and rose to take their leave.

Zhao Ling called A Sen to his side. "The house I used to have on Willow Lane—do you remember it?"

"I remember!" A Sen looked at Zhao Ling, his face full of bewilderment.

Zhao Ling gently patted his head. "When the time comes, take Miss Fu and the others there."

A Sen pressed his lips tightly together and said nothing, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.

"You silly boy," Zhao Ling sighed softly, his tone like a spring breeze brushing past willow tips. "I'm still counting on you to guard that escape route for me."

A Sen was young after all, and he trusted Zhao Ling completely. Hearing this, he wavered uncertainly.

Zhao Ling chuckled. "At your age, trying to learn Yuanbao's art of strategic planning? Wait another ten years!"

A Sen's tears turned to laughter.

Zhao Ling went to see Fu Tingjun.

Fu Tingjun was about to sew some clothes. Hearing that it was Zhao Ling, she hurriedly stuffed the needles, thread, and the half-finished garment into the cabinet: "Wait a moment, I'll be right there."

Zhao Ling stood under the eaves on the other side of the partition screen, listening to the rustling sounds within and the sound of Fu Tingjun bustling back and forth. Without even looking, he could imagine her flustered state.

Shouldn't a young lady of a distinguished family smile without showing her teeth and walk without swishing her skirts? Yet every time he encountered this Ninth Miss of the Fu family, she was always hopping and skipping about, like a child who had never grown up.

He wondered if she behaved the same way in front of her parents.

The corners of his mouth curved into a pleased arc.

Bored and at loose ends, the corner of his eye inadvertently caught sight of a blade of green grass sprouting from the crack between the blue bricks in the corner of the wall. It trembled gently as it faced the sun, its tender green a delight to behold, making one unable to resist the urge to pluck it and hold it in hand, to savor the long-missed fragrance of fresh grass.

The door creaked open, revealing Fu Tingjun's rosy cheeks.

"What business does Ninth Master have?" she said, ushering Zhao Ling into the room.

Though she had only been living here for a few days, the room already bore her traces.

A faint, delicate fragrance lingered in the air. Bright red paper-cuts adorned the windows, a wash painting she had done hung on the wall, a copy of Thousand Poems lay discarded by the pillow, and half a cup of tea remained in the tray on the table.