Chapter Seventy-Six: Fleeing All the Way

Little Lord Gong struggled to sit up, gazing at the calm surface of the water. “Once a boat passes by, we can leave,” he said.

“I fear those who want to kill you will arrive before any boat does,” An Yi replied weakly, her head bowed.

A shadow flickered in Little Lord Gong’s eyes. “If you go upriver, you’ll find someone’s home.”

An Yi looked up at him and asked, “What about you?”

“I’ll wait,” Little Lord Gong replied with a faint smile. “We’ll see if it’s a boat to save my life or doom that finds me first.”

An Yi knit her brows and pressed her hand to her forehead. “You’re not like that.”

“Not like what?” Little Lord Gong raised an eyebrow.

An Yi no longer had the strength to answer. Darkness swept over her, and she fell to her side, unconscious.

Little Lord Gong looked at An Yi, collapsed on the ground, and gave a wry smile. As if fate hadn’t brought him enough trouble, now it delivered a sick girl to him—and a girl he knew, one he could not abandon.

He took a medicine bottle from his belt, poured out two pills, placed them in his mouth, and swallowed. After a moment’s meditation, some color returned to his face. He then lifted An Yi and carried her upriver.

When An Yi awoke again, she found herself in a small earthen hut. Little Lord Gong was sitting opposite her, a fire burning between them, with a clay pot on top steaming with porridge.

“You’re awake,” Little Lord Gong said.

An Yi glanced around. It was an abandoned, dusty, cobweb-filled temple. Squinting, she asked, “Where is this?”

“The Mountain God’s Temple,” Little Lord Gong replied.

“Where did you get all this?” she asked.

“I stole it,” he said with a laugh.

An Yi was taken aback. “Stole?”

“If we’d stayed in one of the fishermen’s homes, once those men came chasing after us, shouting and killing, the frightened fishermen would have betrayed us,” Little Lord Gong explained.

An Yi pulled off the cloth on her forehead and licked her lips, tasting bitterness. “What did you give me to drink?”

Little Lord Gong stirred the porridge with a wooden spoon. “Funny thing. Several villagers were also suffering from the cold, so I used the silver ingots you brought to buy their medicine for you.”

The corner of An Yi’s mouth twitched. She was fortunate to be alive.

“I gave you three doses. If you hadn’t woken up, I’d have risked taking you into town to find a doctor.” Little Lord Gong scooped half a bowl of porridge and handed it to her. “Drink some to settle your stomach. Once you’ve some strength, we can leave at dawn.”

An Yi accepted the bowl, blowing gently as she considered how thoroughly this man had stolen—he must be a seasoned thief.

Unaware of her thoughts, Little Lord Gong filled another half bowl for himself. After a whole day of pilfering, this was his first hot meal—not an easy feat. If word spread in the martial world of his current destitution, how would he salvage his reputation?

For the past two years, every time he came to pay respects to his aunt, trouble followed. Once could be coincidence, but twice? He was determined to get to the bottom of it—he would not allow a third time.

After a few sips of hot porridge, An Yi felt warmth spread through her stomach and murmured, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. In the world we live in, helping in times of crisis is only right.” Little Lord Gong ladled another half bowl. “By the way, why are you carrying so many silver ingots?”

An Yi was about to answer when Little Lord Gong’s expression turned alert. He listened intently, then tossed his bowl aside, swiftly using his leg to scatter the firewood. The flames went out, and thick, choking smoke filled the air.

Unfazed, An Yi asked in a low voice, “They’re here?”

“Yes, they’re here. Don’t be afraid, there aren’t many of them.” Little Lord Gong smiled. “They’ve come on horseback. If we kill them, we’ll have their horses to ride.”

“How confident are you?” An Yi doubted the wounded Little Lord Gong.

“A hundred percent,” he replied, full of confidence.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. Better if we avoid them,” An Yi muttered. She remembered all too well how close to death he’d seemed in the woods. It had only been a few hours; even with miraculous medicine, he couldn’t have fully recovered. Facing many alone with such certainty—who did he think he was fooling?

“No need to hide. I’ll take care of them. Come with me.”

An Yi sat unmoving. “I can’t help you,” she said coolly.

“I don’t need your help.” Little Lord Gong pushed open the crooked wooden door and stepped out.

An Yi set down her bowl and followed. Outside, the moonlight shone cold and clear.

Little Lord Gong shook a large tree by the hut. “Good. Sturdy enough.”

“You want to hide me in a tree?” An Yi frowned. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but she couldn’t climb. If he ended up dead, she’d be stuck up there and surely starve in this desolate place.

Without a word, Little Lord Gong lifted her by the waist and leapt into the tree. From above, An Yi saw several horses approaching. “Are you sure you can handle them all?” she asked.

“I can take on ten. There are only six—nothing to worry about. Just hold on tight and, no matter what happens, don’t make a sound.” He pressed a tree branch into her hand.

“I won’t,” An Yi promised, praying he wasn’t boasting. She pressed her lips tight.

Little Lord Gong jumped down and rushed to meet the enemy.

An Yi kept her eyes fixed on his retreating figure, but without martial skills, she could see little beyond the sounds of neighing horses and shouts—unable to tell who had the upper hand.

Time passed. The sound of hooves drew near again. An Yi glimpsed a rider approaching, but a cloud veiled the crescent moon and she couldn’t see clearly. Was it him returning?

Little Lord Gong reined his horse beneath the tree and called up, “Xi’er, do you know how to ride?”

“No,” An Yi answered, her nerves relaxing.

He chuckled softly. “Do you dare jump down?”

She looked below—over two meters—and shook her head. “No.”

“Jump. I’ll catch you.”

“I don’t dare.” She bit her lip. “Come up and get me.”

“Trust me, I’ll catch you.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you—my legs are numb, I can’t move.”

“Women are nothing but trouble,” Little Lord Gong muttered, leaping into the tree. He wrapped his arm around her waist and jumped down, landing them safely on horseback. He set her in front and took up the reins. “Hold on. We must leave before dawn.”

“Where are you going?” An Yi asked.

“Hezhou.”

An Yi had no memory of Hezhou, not knowing where it was. “I’m going to the capital. Let me off when we reach a town.”

“You intend to travel to the capital alone?” Little Lord Gong asked.

She felt his warm breath, tinged with medicine, and angled away. “There must be caravans heading to the capital—I’ll go with them.”

Little Lord Gong considered. “It’s too dangerous for a girl to travel with strangers. Once I’ve finished my business, I’ll take you to the capital myself.”

“No need. I have urgent matters there—I can’t delay.”

“Urgent? What urgent matters?” Little Lord Gong frowned. “Where are your mother and brother? Why are you alone?”

An Yi pressed her lips together and said nothing.

“Did something happen to your family?” he pressed.

“We were accompanying my eldest brother to the capital for the exams. Our boat met with trouble, and I was separated from them. I need to get to the capital to find them,” An Yi lied.

“If it was a boat accident, they’ll be searching for you nearby. No need to rush to the capital—let’s go into town and ask around. We should be able to find your mother and brother,” Little Lord Gong tried to reassure her.

“It’s already been two days and a night. They’ll think I’m dead,” An Yi replied. She knew Madam Luo and the others would search for her, but the assassins pursuing them would give them little time. The longer they lingered here, the more danger they faced. She had to get to the capital quickly to expose An Qinghe’s lies.

“All the more reason not to travel with a caravan. If…” Little Lord Gong hesitated. “I’ll take you back to Jingtang Village. Riding the back roads, it should take a day and a night.”

An Yi was silent for a moment. “I’ll go with you to Hezhou.”

“Why not return to Jingtang Village?”

“They can’t help,” An Yi said, unwilling to implicate the Luo family.

Little Lord Gong glanced at her disheveled hair, then let the matter drop. She didn’t want to say more; neither would he press. After paying respects to his aunt in Hezhou, he’d take her to Nanjing to see Doctor Lu.

An Yi pressed her lips together, hatred burning in her eyes. If Madam Luo and the others never reached the capital and were killed by the assassins, she would find another way to make An Qinghe pay for this blood debt.

At dawn, Little Lord Gong drew his horse to a halt at the fork of two rugged mountain paths. He lifted An Yi down, saw her spiritless, cheeks flushed with fever, lips pale—after a night exposed to mountain winds, her illness had worsened.

Little Lord Gong furrowed his fine brows. “We need to see a doctor.”

An Yi could barely stand; it was all she could do to lean on him, opening her eyes to see his elegantly defined jawline. He was altogether too conspicuous. If they entered town, the assassins would surely find him quickly. “We can’t go to a doctor in town. Just steal the medicine for me.”

“I almost forgot—you know medicine,” Little Lord Gong said. Glancing back, he saw birds startled from the distant forest. Their pursuers were closing in. He struck his horse with the whip, sending it down the right-hand path, while he carried An Yi up the left.

Before they’d gone far, An Yi slipped into feverish sleep once more.

When she awoke again, a pale gray canopy greeted her. The air was thick with the scent of medicine. She sat up and looked around—a plain wooden room, sparsely furnished but clean. Where was she?

The door creaked open. A young woman in coarse clothes entered.

“Chunzhi!” An Yi exclaimed in surprise.

“Xi’er, you’re awake!” Chunzhi’s face lit up. She called outside, “Benefactor, Xi’er is awake!”

—Extra Note—

My resolve faltered, and my sister-in-law dragged me out to play. A trip that should’ve taken an hour and a half became a three-hour ordeal in traffic. At the scenic spot, climbing up was easy, but getting down was a challenge. I had to squeeze my son through a car window, got jostled so much my glasses broke, and finally managed to get on the bus—only to be stuck in traffic all the way back. Traveling during the holidays is truly paying money for suffering.