The one who came was none other than Zhang Chi.
Three days ago, Zhang Chi had said that if Xu Shixiong failed to produce results within three days, Xiqi City would have a new ruler.
Now that the deadline had arrived and he had received no report, he naturally came to hold him accountable.
Although the Celestial Master Temple did not openly interfere in state affairs, its lofty status and the prestige of the Imperial Preceptor meant that its disciples also wielded immense power.
At times, words spoken by them could carry the weight of an imperial decree.
Moreover, the matter of hunting down this fugitive was anything but ordinary. Whether from his master or the court, he would undoubtedly have full backing.
Not an imperial envoy, yet equal to one.
“City Lord Xu, do you really think I, Zhang, can’t strip you of that official hat?”
The young Taoist, dressed in a black robe, stepped out slowly from the night.
His expression was cold as he stared at Xu Shixiong, his gaze sharp and oppressive, his low voice filled with unmistakable threat.
Xu Shixiong’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he quickly suppressed it and said calmly, “Immortal Master Zhang, please quell your anger. Over these past three days, I have done everything in my power to investigate this matter without the slightest negligence. It is only that time has been too short and the clues too few. I ask that you judge this fairly.”
“Useless!”
Before the young Taoist could speak, the fat Taoist disciple beside him snapped, “This is someone our master personally designated by the Imperial Preceptor ordered us to find. Do you have any idea what will happen if you fail?!”
Hearing this, Xu Shixiong’s expression did not change, but his mind stirred. If this were merely an ordinary fugitive pursuit, even if the fugitive were the youngest daughter of the Northern Suppression General, it should not have alarmed the Imperial Preceptor. There was likely more to this than met the eye.
“Enough.” Zhang Chi let out a cold snort and waved a hand behind him. A figure stepped out of the night. The person hunched her head, her face full of fear, standing there trembling, not daring to breathe too loudly.
If Gu Qing were here, he would immediately recognize this person as the broker who had originally sold Qiu Niang to him.
“M-My lords, I-I did sell a crippled little beggar with both legs disabled, b-but I truly don’t know whether it was a girl or not. I just picked the child up casually from outside my door…”
Before anyone could even question him, the broker suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud, terrified. Just an ordinary commoner, she had never seen such a scene before. She kowtowed repeatedly, begging for mercy, crying until her face was covered in tears and mucus.
The young Taoist frowned slightly, a trace of impatience flashing across his face. In the next instant, he raised his hand and struck out with a palm. Spiritual light flickered in his hand as it landed on the back of the broker’s head. The piercing cries for mercy stopped abruptly, and the man collapsed to the ground without another sound.
A pool of bright red blood slowly spread beneath him.
“Noisy.”
Zhang Chi spoke indifferently. Though he was referring to the broker, his gaze remained fixed on Xu Shixiong.
“Now then, City Lord Xu…do you have any leads?”
***
That night, in Shuangyu Village.
In a household’s guest room, candlelight flickered.
It had already been six full days since Gu Qing and Qiu Niang set out.
If counted from when they entered the mountains from Qingji Town, three days had passed.
According to Gu Qing’s original plan, they shouldn’t have stopped here but continued a few more li ahead to a small town more suitable for resting.
However, that afternoon, Gu Qing had a stroke of bad luck. While climbing a slope barehanded, he accidentally disturbed a hibernating viper, which bit fiercely into the web between his left thumb and index finger.
Sharp pain and swelling struck instantly. Fortunately, Gu Qing reacted quickly. He drew his sword at once and cut off the snake’s head, then applied the medicinal ointment he carried with him, preventing any serious harm.
In this life, he had grown up in the mountains and was familiar with all kinds of venomous snakes and wild beasts. Combined with his past habit of frequently entering the mountains to gather herbs, he always kept emergency ointments on him, just in case.
Knowing this journey would span three thousand li, there was no way he would overlook such preparations.
“Does it hurt?”
Just after changing the medicine, as Gu Qing tore clean cloth strips to rebandage the wound, he heard a soft question from beside him.
On the nearby bed, the girl lay quietly. She turned her head slightly, her dark eye reflecting the flickering candlelight, her small face shifting between light and shadow.
Gu Qing’s hands paused mid-bandage. He had intended to casually say, “Doesn’t hurt,” to maintain an air of composure, but he was never good at lying. Whether on Earth or after transmigrating, he had always been someone who feared pain.
The kind who was even afraid of injections.
So he raised an eyebrow and said, “It’s alright.”
At this moment, one couldn’t help but admire Qiu Niang. Gu Qing still remembered the first time he applied medicine to the girl. Her injuries had been far more severe than his minor wound today, yet she had endured it without making a single sound.
“Are you afraid of pain?”
Qiu Niang asked again.
“Not really… though even if I were, that’d be perfectly normal, right? What normal person isn’t afraid of pain? Only lunatics wouldn’t be.” Gu Qing recalled that back on Earth, there was an extremely twisted form of performance art known as sadomasochism.
After he said this, the guest room fell silent. Only Gu Qing’s occasional frown and the hissing sounds from his mouth could be heard.
That was because he had accidentally used too much force while bandaging the wound, making him suck in several sharp breaths.
After a while, the girl’s cool voice sounded again.
“How much farther do we have to go?”
“I don’t know. Anyway, we just have to reach the Red River.”
Whether intentional or not, Gu Qing had never told her how far the Red River was from Xiqi. So she only knew they were heading there, but not the distance let alone how long it would take.
“Then it must still be very far.”
Qiu Niang suddenly spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
Her remark seemed somewhat inexplicable, and after saying it, she fell silent, not speaking again.
Logically, after saying something like that, there should have been a follow-up, perhaps asking just how far “far” really was or suggesting that since it was so distant, maybe they shouldn’t go after all.
But they weren’t traveling for leisure; it wasn’t something they could start or stop on a whim.
They were going in search of that faint, almost illusory chance of survival. More precisely, it was for her sake.
Qiu Niang did not fear death, yet she carried something heavier than death itself. As long as there was even the slightest hope, she would never choose to give it up.
So after speaking, she fell silent. She couldn’t bring herself to voice those words of surrender and could only wait for Gu Qing to say them instead.
“What, are you scared? Don’t want to go anymore?”
Gu Qing finally finished bandaging his wound and turned to look at her.
“It’s you. You’re afraid of pain. And it’s still so far…you’ll have to endure it many more times.”
The girl didn’t meet his gaze. A moment before he turned, she had already looked away, staring straight at the beam above.
“Trying to provoke me?”
Gu Qing raised an eyebrow. “Well then, I’m definitely going to this Red River.”
Qiu Niang found him a bit irritating.
He clearly knew that wasn’t what she meant, yet he deliberately chose to twist her words that way.
Maybe he had always been this annoying from the very first time they met. Without saying a word, he rushed over to treat her wounds, fed her medicine, and even claimed he would cure her.
So baffling. Who asked you to treat me?
The girl thought silently, then turned her head again to face inwards with her back to him.
A silent dampness spread across the pillow.
The young physician stood up, stretched, and then blew out the candle.
Well, that settled it.
The guest room fell into complete darkness. No one could see the other now; even if someone quietly shed tears, there was no need to worry about embarrassment.
“Lights out. Sleep.”
He said.
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