Chapter 292: A Repeat of the Past (I)

Le Wuya ate the leftover wild-vegetable mush noodles Granny Sun had from the evening meal, then changed into an old garment belonging to Granny Sun's eldest son. Before dawn, he made ready to set out on the road back to Dansui.

Ever since he'd changed into the old clothes, Granny Sun had been staring at him blankly. When he was about to leave, she suddenly snapped out of it, grabbed hold of him, and told him to wait a few days until things cooled off before going.

But Le Wuya refused gently: "Granny, I'm the one who kicked up this fuss. If I lie low till it blows over, it'll only make things worse."

Seeing that this fellow didn't know what was good for him, Granny Sun's temper shot up: "Go on, then! If you're so set on getting yourself killed, be my guest! Just don't drag me into it!"

Le Wuya didn't bat an eye at the scolding. He grinned like a rascal and said, "When I come back, I'll buy you the toughest donkey for a hundred miles!"

The words barely left his mouth before a slap hit his shoulder: "Smooth talker! I don't need you buying me this or that. Use your money to do some good, earn yourself some merit!"

"You think I'm a bad sort?"

Granny Sun fell silent.

Saying Le Wuya wasn't shady would be lying to herself.

This boy, with his clean-cut face, was always up to no good. First, he dumped a horse at her place out of nowhere, going on about some big mission. But then he came hightailing it back in the dead of night, and not only that, he dragged a bunch of soldiers back with him. He didn't strike her as the type to walk the straight and narrow.

But compared to that, Granny Sun hated the Dansui soldiers even more.

She didn't bother hiding where her loyalties lay: "Just stay out of trouble from now on, got it? Now scram!"

Le Wuya tugged at the hem of his shirt.

"A little loose?" Granny Sun asked with concern, then couldn't resist a sharp jab: "Look how scrawny you are! Make sure you eat! Your waist's as thin as a weasel's!"

The little weasel, Le Wuya, darted forward and gave Granny Sun a big hug, his eyes crinkling in a grin: "Granny, I'm heading out!"

The way he said "Granny" came out sounding a bit like "Mama."

So Granny Sun held back her scolding. Instead, as she saw him off, she snuck a cornmeal cake into his saddlebag.

Le Wuya rode his horse a hundred-odd paces out, then looked back. Granny Sun was still leaning against the small courtyard gate, stubbornly staring off in the direction he'd gone.

With eyes like hers, she should've lost sight of him ages ago.

But she still wouldn't budge.

Le Wuya reined in his horse, glanced back a moment, then his face went cold. Without another thought, he spurred his horse into a gallop for Dansui.

As he neared Dansui, he was stopped by a squad of soldiers, as expected.

The three soldiers heard the hoofbeats from a ways off, and as he approached, they barked at Le Wuya to get off his horse.

Le Wuya hopped down, playing timid, and made his voice all soft and meek: "Officers?"

Taking one look at Le Wuya's manner, before the leading soldier could speak, the two behind him traded smirks and elbowed each other, barely concealed contempt in their eyes.

The leader gave a knowing, sleazy grin: "Out riding at night, got a lot of nerve, huh? Where you coming from?"

Le Wuya lowered his long lashes and spoke in a soft, meek tone: "Just running an errand nearby. I'd be much obliged if you gents could let me through."

With that, Le Wuya handed over a string of copper coins: "You gents must be beat from your night watch. Here, have a cup of tea on me to wet your whistles."

The men traded looks, irritated: This chump change—were they beggars to be palmed off with pocket lint?

They'd already pegged Le Wuya as a rent boy who'd been called up for the night, and after finishing his work, he needed to get back before dawn to report in.

They never connected him with the "escaped miners."

For one, when Le Wuya had fled down the mountain, he'd been on foot, still wearing miner's clothes. How much time had passed since then? Where could he have gotten such clean clothes and a horse?

For another, they were the very soldiers tasked with guarding the Xiaolian Mountain mine.

The villages of Gelianping, Lijiatuan, and Sunjiatuan—together about two hundred people—had been locked up under their own watch. They'd personally mixed sedatives into the food, knocked everyone unconscious, then withdrawn ten li away and watched as the mudslide triggered by explosives came crashing down, burying all three villages completely.

They knew all the miners by face, which was why their superiors had sent them to search.

Le Wuya's face was the kind one remembered at first sight.

They'd never seen him before.

The leader's clothes were tugged by the two behind him.

He turned his head and gave them a reassuring look.

Niu Sanqi's death had kept them on edge ever since.

The imperial mining inspector sent by the court had died on the mountain. If that got out, they'd be in serious trouble.

To clean up this mess, they hadn't slept properly for over ten days—arresting people, blowing up mountains, pretending to dig for bodies, and scouring the hills for fugitives. All hard labor, all for nothing.

Now they'd run into an easy target—what harm was there in squeezing him a bit?

This man had just "finished his business," so he must have money on him.

While the three exchanged silent signals, Le Wuya was calmly assessing the quality of these three men.

The leader's voice was hoarse, as if he always had phlegm stuck in his throat, suggesting a throat condition.

All three unconsciously hunched their shoulders and backs, like an occupational habit from patrolling low, cramped tunnels.

Up close, the color of their fingernails was also different from ordinary people's.

Though the mine overseer soldiers didn't do manual labor themselves, staying in a sealed environment for too long left stains that couldn't be washed away.

Most crucially, these three were solely focused on extortion, completely failing to see him as the "mountain bandit" that Zhou Wenchang had labeled him.

If they were soldiers unaware of the truth, truly believing the fugitives from the mountain were "bandits," they wouldn't have such a dismissive attitude upon seeing a suspicious person riding at night.

Only these mine soldiers knew that what their superiors were really hunting wasn't bandits, but the few miners who'd escaped in the chaos.

When there was still distance between them, they'd been wary.

But as he approached and they saw his face, their wariness vanished, replaced by relaxed expressions.

Little Dumpling was a simpleton; Le Wuya hadn't taken his words entirely at face value.

He would only use his own eyes and ears to verify and deduce, ultimately arriving at the truth.

Sure enough, having decided to squeeze this soft target, the leader hardened his face again: "Not taking the main road, but traveling at night? Aren't you afraid of being robbed? Are you a decent person or not?!"

Seeing Le Wuya mumble without a response, the leader grew bolder: "Do you have a travel permit? Hand it over!"

Le Wuya pulled a long face: "No, no..."

The soldier leader was now even more certain Le Wuya was a bonded servant.

Since his indenture contract was in someone else's hands, he naturally couldn't produce any proof.

For someone like that, getting robbed and even raped was just their own damn fault.

He suddenly raised his voice: "In this heat, why the hell are you wearing a neck warmer?! What's wrong with your neck?"

Le Wuya said in a low voice: "Someone clawed me, left a mark."

He yanked the iron whip from his belt, its handle wrapped with wire—the standard sidearm of low-ranking mine overseers, just the thing for beating miners: "Take it off!"

Le Wuya put on a terrified act, trembling as he removed the scarf, revealing the scratched side of his neck.

"Well, well." The soldier leader said with righteous indignation, "You get clawed by a wolf? That's a hell of a gash. I figure you're a mountain bandit!"

Le Wuya's face turned pale with fear: "Sir, please spare me! Look at me—do I look like a bandit?"

"You say you ain't? Then prove it!"

The soldier leader made a gesture, and the two men piled on—one rifled through his saddlebag, the other grabbed Le Wuya's collar and ripped the pouch off his belt.

When they opened it, there was a jade chess piece inside.

Blind to the sudden chill in Le Wuya's eyes, the soldier's eyes lit up, and he presented it with both hands to the leader: "Chief, check this out—this is the real deal!"

Meanwhile, the other guy dumped the saddlebag's contents all over the ground.

The cornmeal cake Granny Sun couldn't bear to eat tumbled out and hit the dirt.

Just as they were all locked in this mess, a rider approached on horseback. Seeing the scene, he frowned: "Old Guan, what the hell are you lot up to?"

"What? Didn't the boss order us to round up bandits?"

The soldier leader, known as Old Guan, knew the newcomer well and jerked his chin at Le Wuya, who was glued to that jade chess piece: "I just caught a suspicious one here."

The newcomer took one look and knew they were skimming off the top.

He didn't want to get involved, so he pretended not to see, and continued relaying orders: "Master Zhou says the bandit's been caught."

Old Guan let out an "Ah": "What? Caught? Who is it?"

The messenger clearly knew the inside story too: "It's that Liang fellow. He tried to make a break for the mountain, but lucky for us, Master Zhou hadn't pulled all his men back. Liang panicked, jumped off the cliff, botched the landing, and splattered."

At that, the light in Le Wuya's eyes went ice-cold.

Old Guan let out a relieved breath, a grin he couldn't stop spreading across his face: "Well, that makes things a hell of a lot easier! Just those two left..."

He suddenly remembered Le Wuya was still standing there and clammed up, but the glee on his face was already impossible to hide.

...On the miner roster, only Liang Xiu and the Suns—mother and son—were still unaccounted for.

As long as the one who got away wasn't Liang Xiu, they were in the clear!

Even if that mother and son really had three heads and six arms and could sprout wings and fly off Xiaolian Mountain to file a complaint—a woman and a half-wit, flat broke, no travel papers, they'd end up as beggars, not even able to get through the courthouse door!

The messenger urged impatiently: "Don't get sloppy. The boss wants everyone who knows Xiaolian Mountain back on standby!"

He shot Le Wuya a look, curling his lip in disdain: "Get rid of him fast. Screw this up, and you'll be in deep shit!"

With that, he cracked his whip and rode off to the next stop.

...

Meanwhile, at the base of Xiaolian Mountain, a corpse was dragged up and dumped in front of Zhou Wenchang.

A big man, blood leaking from every orifice, limbs twisted, shrunk to a shadow of himself—starved down to a shriveled, dull eggplant.

A young soldier who'd known him well could barely recognize him. He held a torch up, squinting at the body from every angle for a long time before nodding nervously: "Sir, this is Liang Xiu."

Zhou Wenchang pressed a handkerchief to his nose and mouth, staring down at the corpse, but felt no relief: "You cut him off on the north side of the mountain?"

"Yes." The mountain guard who'd found Liang Xiu ventured: "Sir, you think he ran into that Little Dumpling and conned the simpleton? Got the fool to bolt from the most dangerous spot up front while he snuck off from the side?"

Zhou Wenchang squatted down and squeezed Liang Xiu's arm, once solid and strong.

The body wasn't stiff yet—flesh soft and flabby, cold and clammy. Revolting to the touch.

Zhou Wenchang moved his hand to the stomach and pushed down.

It was sunken in a frightening way.

He stood up expressionlessly and wiped his fingers with the handkerchief: "How did you force him to jump off the cliff?"

"He was so weak from hunger he could barely run. We chased him a bit, and when he saw he couldn't get away, he went over the edge—"

Zhou Wenchang's face went cold: "That doesn't add up!"

"A strong, able-bodied man like him, dodging us in these mountains for days, ends up that starved. That half-wit just came of age and isn't right in the head—where'd he get food? How'd he run that fast?"

"The one who got away isn't the half-wit—it's somebody else!"

...

And on the outskirts of Dansui City, the "someone else" Zhou Wenchang mentioned, without a sound, raised his right hand, lined up the messenger's retreating back, and squeezed the trigger on his wrist crossbow.

Before Old Guan could even react, he spun and jammed the bolt against his throat.

At point-blank range, blood sprayed!

Watching Old Guan crumple, bleeding out in front of him, Le Wuya snatched the whip from his hand, blocked a panicked soldier's sloppy sword swing, cocked his head, and dropped the bolt to aim at his chest.

In a flash, all three were dead.

The last one left, scared out of his mind, screamed and scrambled away on all fours.

That saved Le Wuya the hassle.

His wrist crossbow only held three bolts; after the fourth shot, he'd have to reload.

As he reloaded, he thought: That old bastard Wang Su sure knows how to read people.

From what they'd said, Liang Xiu, Sun Huizhen, and Little Dumpling were the only miners left alive.

Not one living witness left.

Cornered like this, he really couldn't hold back from killing.

Just now, he asked Granny Sun whether he could be called a good man.

Le Wuya knew he never had been.

But he also knew that corrupt officials were sly, so good officials had to be ten times slyer and a hundred times smarter.

If he simply gave in and accepted this, who would seek justice for those hundreds of common folk?

So, he intended to carry out Wang Su's intention in sending him here, and also take his own path along the way.

Le Wuya aimed at the soldier stumbling as he fled, and without a tremor in his hand, pressed the trigger mechanism.