Chapter 60
THUNDER RUMBLED in the distance. When Wu Du returned to their room, he found Duan Ling lying on the bed, still awake. He glanced over at him as he entered.
“Not tired?” he asked.
Duan Ling shook his head. He’d just sat up to offer Wu Du the bed when Wu Du stopped him. “Sleep there. The floor in here is filthy. I saw the porter mopping earlier; who knows how long they’ve been using that same bucket of water. An old well is probably cleaner.”
Duan Ling laughed. As they were traveling together, they’d crammed into the single main bedroom at the post house. The bed was large enough, at least.
“When we get back, the capital might already have moved,” Wu Du said lightly. “Maybe if we do a good job Mu Kuangda will give us a bigger house.”
Duan Ling’s thoughts were still occupied by their afternoon conversation. “Is Xie You in Jiang Prefectural City?”
Wu Du made an affirmative sound, and Duan Ling lost himself in thought again. He wanted to dig deeper into what Wu Du had said before, but Wu Du was a swordsman at heart; he wasn’t well-versed in the political games of Mu Kuangda and his ilk. Since antiquity, the power of the emperor and the power of the prime minister, as well as the regional and the central government, had checked each other in an endless game of tug-of-war. Even after Great Chen had emerged from this latest war, surviving what seemed to be the most dangerous period, tensions simmered under the surface of recovery. One misstep now could upset everything.
The city of Huaiyin was located northwest of Jiang Prefectural City, a vital link in Great Chen’s northwestern defensive line after the fall of Shangzi. The local gentry were powerful and flourishing, with an influence that rivaled the imperial family itself; Princess Duanping’s marriage had therefore been a way to win over the Marquis of Huaiyin, Yao Fu. Moving the capital so close to Huaiyin was as good as challenging the marquis’s power, and proclaimed the Li clan’s determination to use the Central Plains as a staging ground for recovering their territories in the north. Mu Kuangda seemed to be the one pushing from behind the scenes, but in truth, it was Li Yanqiu who’d made the final decision. Duan Ling wondered if the false crown prince had enough courage to follow through.
“What kind of person is the crown prince?” Duan Ling asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
Wu Du rolled over, ignoring him. Duan Ling shook him but had to give up when he still didn’t receive an answer. He stared at the ceiling, thinking again. If it was just him and his fourth uncle against the marquis and his power, would he be afraid? The capital’s relocation was inevitable, though—and when he thought of it like that, the risk seemed just a little bit exciting.
As they set out the next day, Wu Du noticed that Duan Ling was—once again—bleary-eyed.
“Why do you always look so sleepy?” he asked.
But his exasperation quickly turned to resignation. The boy seemed dead tired every morning—if no one looked after him, he’d probably get lost on the way to the carriage.
Autumn was fast approaching. A light drizzle accompanied them that day, the weather cooling as they traveled north from Xichuan.
When they arrived at the Min River at dusk, it had begun to rain in earnest. Wu Du turned to Duan Ling. “From here on out, you’re the young master, and I’m the servant.”
“All right,” Duan Ling agreed, tying his robe properly at the waist.
Patiently, Wu Du walked him through how he ought to address different people and what to say to maintain his disguise. Duan Ling nodded his head continually, looking humble, though his mind was elsewhere.
Wu Du had begun to realize Duan Ling wasn’t exactly ordinary—or, rather, that he wasn’t the kind of ordinary Wu Du had previously assumed. This brat had many thoughts but said few aloud; he considered carefully before he spoke, and though he seemed absent-minded, he was actually incredibly astute, often noticing details Wu Du missed himself.
It’d been raining for several days now, and the mountain routes were treacherous. After leaving Xichuan, the road had collapsed in several areas, forcing their driver to make a detour. By evening, the driver had gotten lost and shouted wordlessly toward Wu Du, who had no choice but to clamber on top of the carriage and survey their surroundings.
“What should we do?” Duan Ling called out the window. He made to step out, but Wu Du motioned for him to remain seated.
“Just…practice being a young master,” Wu Du muttered half to himself as he unfolded a map. Darkness had fallen, and there were no visible landmarks, only fields filled with bales of straw. The freezing rain and wind whipped around him.
“The people at the post house told us this was the road,” Duan Ling said. “We confirmed it.”
“We may have taken a wrong turn two crossroads ago.” Wu Du was vexed. The driver was deaf and mute; even if Wu Du yelled at him, he wouldn’t hear it. He used hand gestures to signal to the driver that he’d been fine taking the Xichuan road, but that as soon as they entered Hanzhong, the man had lost his bearings.
“Why don’t we retrace our steps?” Duan Ling asked.
“There are too many forks in the road,” Wu Du replied. “Who knows if we’ll wander into some other, wilder place in the dark. Let’s camp here for the night.”
The driver moved the carriage to the side of the road and built a temporary shelter behind it while Duan Ling and Wu Du remained within.
“I’ll go see what’s around here,” Wu Du offered.
“I’ll come with you,” Duan Ling said, retrieving the dagger Mu Kuangda had given him for self-defense.
Wu Du studied him, mildly surprised. “Why are you so brave all of a sudden?”
Duan Ling remained quiet under Wu Du’s baffled stare. The truth was, as soon as Duan Ling had left Xichuan, his life was no longer under direct threat. Other than Lang Junxia, nobody was going to try and kill him for no good reason. The thought had instantly made him feel bolder. He’d slacked off on his martial arts training for the better part of a year, but he still practiced sometimes and could use his skills if needed.
“I just…want to take a walk,” Duan Ling replied evasively.
“Wait here.”
Yet almost as soon as Wu Du turned to leave, another worrisome thought seemed to occur to him. He turned back and handed Duan Ling a pill. “Swallow it.”
“What is it?”
The pill was horribly bitter on his tongue, but upon seeing Wu Du’s irritated look, Duan Ling swallowed without further questions. His stomach felt cool for a moment, then warm; a breath later, Wu Du handed him a familiar golden bead.
Duan Ling started.