Chapter 58
THE NEXT MORNING, Lang Junxia left the palace in the bright, early hours, wearing plain brown robes to mingle with the common folk in the market. He crossed West Street and walked toward the remote side courtyard of the prime minister’s manor, stopping just outside the residence and blending into the shadows of the alley opposite.
Across the street, a carriage waited. Duan Ling, dozing on his feet, failed to climb into the carriage even after a few tries; impatient, Wu Du shoved him in, then turned around to purchase their breakfast from a nearby street stall. Wu Du looked fine in his new traveling robes, his sword case slung across his back as he spoke with the wonton stall’s owner.
“Half a catty of shrimp filling, and half a catty of pork,” Wu Du told the man. Seeming to sense something, he whipped around, scanning the area with a frown.
Lang Junxia retreated further into the alley, out of Wu Du’s field of vision. Wu Du paid for the wontons and climbed into the carriage, though he immediately peeled back the curtain to look out. Duan Ling had been barely awake when Wu Du had roughly washed his face and changed his robes for him, then hauled him into the carriage to carry on snoozing. Yet the moment he smelled food, he catapulted into full awareness.
“Breakfast?” He nabbed the chopsticks to pluck wontons from the bamboo tube.
As soon as he’d eaten his fill, he leaned his head against Wu Du’s shoulder and fell right back asleep.
“Huh?”
In the manor, Mu Qing woke with a start to find his study companion had already departed. He ran into the streets after them, but the carriage was long gone.
The driver brought them out of the city, speeding along the official road through the late summer landscape. Leaves rustled overhead as the shadows of trees swayed across the carriage, the scenery verdant and the air refreshing. Wu Du pinned the curtains up and slouched back on the bench. With one foot propped on the low stool and his elbows bracing him, he gave off a domineering air. Duan Ling lay on the bench, his head in Wu Du’s lap.
The cicadas shrilled without cease. Some time later, Duan Ling rolled over and was woken by the sun on his face.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Wu Du half bathed in pure sunlight, half dappled in the shadows cast by the rustling leaves. Bright spots flew over his face like meteors. Wu Du was mulling something over. He had a slightly roguish air about him when he was silent, as if he was dissatisfied with everything and everyone.
“Finally awake?” Wu Du asked.
Duan Ling yawned. Levering himself up, he leaned out the window for a look. “Whoa!” he exclaimed upon seeing the scenery racing by.
“Don’t jump around,” Wu Du warned.
Despite the circumstances, Duan Ling was thrilled to be on the road. He leaned over Wu Du to gaze past him out the opposite window. The carriage was small, and there was nowhere for Wu Du to move, so he supported Duan Ling’s weight as he craned his neck over him. When Duan Ling had come to Xichuan, he’d traveled through Jiang Prefectural City and crossed Jianmen Pass to enter the four-river region; he’d never taken the road that traversed Hanzhong, and the views along this route were vastly different.
They stopped for a break near a tranquil pond set among lush green wheat fields that seemed to stretch for thousands of miles, at the center of which stood an ancient maple tree. The blue of the sky was a hue so pure it was as if it had been washed clean, and the cicadas’ cries were an undulating symphony filling the air. It was a scene straight out of those famous lines: “In the boundless wilderness, the sky merges seamless with the trees.”15
The driver sat to eat his lunch, and Duan Ling settled down under the tree with Wu Du. Only now did Duan Ling truly absorb the beauty of the Central Plains of which his father had once spoken. Yet Wu Du, at his side, appeared strangely melancholic. He lowered his head and studied the soil under the tree, digging some out with a finger then patting it back into place.
“Is there something there?” Duan Ling asked, curious.
“Cicada sloughs,” Wu Du replied.
Wu Du dug a few out and wrapped them in paper. The driver, having finished his lunch, called out wordlessly to them from the official road, and the two went back to the carriage. Before they left, Wu Du turned and stared at the tree for a lingering moment, as if it held some special meaning for him.
“What is this place?” Duan Ling asked.
“Nowhere,” Wu Du said. “Let’s go.”
Duan Ling had been curious about Wu Du’s past for a while, but Wu Du rarely talked about it, as if he found it embarrassing to bring it up.