Chapter Seventy-Seven: Parading Through the Streets

Young Lord Gong entered at the call, and upon seeing An Yi sitting on the bed, he sighed in relief. “You’ve finally woken up. You were unconscious for five days. If you hadn’t woken soon, you might have become a living corpse.”

Hearing this, An Yi felt a surge of emotion. In an era where medical knowledge was so primitive, it was nothing short of miraculous that she survived five days of unconsciousness.

Once awake, An Yi heard from Chun Zhi what had happened during those five days. She’d been in a deep coma, muttering nonsense in her sleep, and her condition seemed to worsen. Fearing she would die, Young Lord Gong risked bringing her into the city. On their way, they encountered Chun Zhi and Fu Lin, who were carrying firewood to sell.

Chun Zhi immediately recognized Young Lord Gong as the benefactor who had rescued her and her husband from a bully the previous year. She then recognized An Yi and brought them both home, while Fu Lin went into town to fetch a physician.

The Xu Dynasty did not strictly regulate migration. Chun Zhi and Fu Lin settled in the village after paying the village chief, building their house at the foot of the mountain, isolated from others. Young Lord Gong and An Yi stayed there for a while, unnoticed by the villagers.

“Chun Zhi, will you return to Jingtang Village?” An Yi asked.

“I will. Once I have the baby, and the child turns one, I’ll go back. By then, my mother can no longer separate me from Brother Fu Lin,” Chun Zhi replied, gently stroking her slightly rounded belly, smiling tenderly.

An Yi took a sip of chicken porridge. With this, she needn’t worry about Chun Zhi slipping up when she returned.

After three more days in the village, An Yi recovered fully from her illness, though she was now thinner. Her eyes appeared even larger on her small face, deep and mysterious as a pool.

The assassins hunting Young Lord Gong seemed to have vanished; eight days of tranquility felt odd to him. He didn’t know if they had given up or were waiting in Hezhou.

“Xi’er, I’m coming in,” Young Lord Gong called, knocking on the door.

An Yi straightened her clothes and sat by the bed. “Come in.”

He entered. “Are you well enough? Can you travel?”

“I’m fine now. We can leave,” An Yi replied.

“We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow. Pack your things.”

“Understood.” An Yi, mimicking Wei Yang, tucked three silver ingots under her pillow.

Before dawn, the two took their leave. Once outside the village, An Yi couldn’t keep pace with Young Lord Gong’s long strides. As he began to fade into the darkness ahead, she called out, “Are we walking all the way to Hezhou?”

“I can walk there, but you can't. So we'll hire a carriage in town,” Young Lord Gong replied without looking back.

“Can you slow down? I can’t keep up,” An Yi said with a frown.

Young Lord Gong stopped, turned, and without a word, scooped her up in his arms.

An Yi glared at him, lips pressed tightly together.

At the city gates, which had just opened, he set her down. They entered side by side, drawing the astonished gaze of the gatekeepers—Young Lord Gong’s beauty was truly striking.

An Yi frowned slightly and whispered, “Why don’t you disguise yourself so you’re less conspicuous?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure a disguise would make me unrecognizable?”

An Yi pursed her lips at his vanity.

Instead of heading straight to the carriage house, Young Lord Gong led her into a tailor’s shop.

“What are you doing?” An Yi asked.

“What else would one do in a tailor’s shop?” he retorted, glancing at her.

“You’re buying clothes?” An Yi guessed, frowning.

“Mm-hmm.” With that, he strode into the store.

An Yi rolled her eyes. Even on the run, this vain man never forgot to look good.

The attendant stared, stunned, until Young Lord Gong snapped his fingers in front of him. Jolted awake, the man greeted him with eager flattery, guiding him to select garments.

Young Lord Gong was meticulous, picking colors, styles, and patterns, spending a full half hour before settling on two sets: one in indigo with silver trim and embroidered purple magnolias, another in soft violet with orange lotus flowers.

Afterward, he went to the back to change, turning to see An Yi standing grim-faced in the shop. “You should pick two sets as well—one to wear, one for the road.”

“I don’t need any,” An Yi said coldly.

“Hurry up and choose. Don’t waste time,” Young Lord Gong said sternly.

Who was wasting time here? An Yi bit back her retort, selected two sets at random, and took the pale blue one with embroidered plum blossoms to change.

The two emerged from the tailor’s shop looking entirely renewed. Young Lord Gong’s eyes danced, a faint smile at his lips, dashing and elegant. An Yi, carrying two bundles of clothes, was cold-faced and radiated an aura that warned strangers to keep their distance.

Young Lord Gong stopped at a small jewelry stall, picked up a silver hairpin with a plum blossom, and asked the vendor, “How much for this pin?”

The vendor stared, mouth agape, drooling.

Young Lord Gong waved the hairpin before her eyes. “Miss, the price?”

“Ah, twenty coins,” she replied, giggling foolishly.

He paid, then turned and slid the pin into An Yi’s hair. “It suits you.”

Her hands full, An Yi couldn’t remove it, so she shot him a glare. “Can we go to the carriage house now?”

“No rush,” Young Lord Gong said with a smile, continuing down the street, drawing dumbstruck stares from passersby.

An Yi frowned, regretting ever following this man to Hezhou.

Young Lord Gong bought a folding fan from a fan shop, its surface painted with a red plum branch. He gently waved it and asked An Yi, “What do you think?”

“Waving a fan in winter—showing off,” An Yi replied coolly.

“You’re too young to be so old-fashioned. It’s dull,” he laughed.

She turned away, ignoring him.

Unfazed, Young Lord Gong wandered, waving his fan, occasionally asking about prices.

An Yi followed, brows knotted. Why wasn’t he hurrying to Hezhou? What was the purpose of this leisurely stroll?

At the carriage house, Young Lord Gong claimed they were siblings, surnamed Long, heading to Hezhou to visit relatives. He hired a plain carriage, driven by the Liu family: Liu Dafang, a sturdy man in his mid-thirties, and his son Liu Hai, about sixteen, both honest-faced.

With the carriage hired, they didn’t leave immediately. Young Lord Gong had Liu Dafang drive through the streets, stopping at a shop for an umbrella, a fruit store for pastries, candied fruit, melon seeds, and longevity nuts, then a tea house for a packet of tea, a small copper kettle, and a set of teacups, and finally a bookstore for several volumes. He turned to An Yi, “Is there anything you need to buy, little sister?”

An Yi glanced at him. “We should get some medicine.”

Young Lord Gong assumed her illness lingered, unaware she had another purpose for the medicine.

An Yi bought several large bags of medicine and stowed them in the carriage.

The carriage rolled slowly out of town, following the official road, wheels kicking up dust.

An Yi curled up with her bundle of clothes, leaning against the carriage wall, eyes closed in rest.

Young Lord Gong sat opposite, using a small brazier to boil water.

When the water boiled, the lid rattled softly. He took out clean tea sets, brewed two cups of hot tea, tapped the table lightly, “Wake up and have some tea to warm yourself.”

An Yi opened her eyes, took the cup to warm her hands, but didn’t drink. The cup was scalding hot, burning her palm; yet, no matter how hot the water, it could not thaw her heart, frozen anew.

Young Lord Gong sipped, frowned, and sighed. “There’s no good tea in this town. Just this old, stale brew.”

An Yi said nothing, her gaze lowered to the curling steam rising from her cup, thoughts drifting: Were her mother and uncle alive or dead? Was the letter still on its way? Would her eldest brother understand its meaning upon reading it? And Qing He—he must now be joyfully preparing to wed again. To kill wife and child, lose all conscience—what opera lyrics fit that crime? They suited him perfectly.

Young Lord Gong drank the poor tea slowly, rolled up the curtain, handed An Yi a book, and placed the snacks on the table. “Traveling by carriage is dull. Learn to entertain yourself, pass the time.”

An Yi glanced at him, set the slightly cooled cup down, picked up the book, and flipped through a few pages. The carriage jolted too much; she didn’t want to strain her eyes. She closed the book, set it aside, hugged her bundle tightly, and leaned back, eyes shut once more.

Young Lord Gong closed his book and watched the girl opposite. Her face was small as a melon seed, pale to the extreme, brows long and fine as willow leaves, her nose delicate, lips pressed tight. She’d been unusually silent the whole way. What calamity had befallen her family, turning a once innocent, kind girl into this lifeless figure?

An Yi sensed his gaze but had no idea what he pondered. Had she known, she would have scoffed.

The carriage traveled steadily, pausing at midday for a short rest. Young Lord Gong took out pastries bought in town, offered a package to the Liu father and son, and smiled apologetically to An Yi. “On the road, we must make do. Tonight, once we reach the city, I’ll treat you to a proper meal.”

An Yi’s expression didn’t change. She picked up an osmanthus cake and took a bite. It was overly sweet, cloying; after one piece, she had no appetite for more.

Young Lord Gong didn’t care much for sweets either, eating only two pieces.

Leaving town too late, night fell before they reached the next city. They had to stay at a modest roadside inn. Business was slow; the dim light flickered over old tables and chairs, two guests at dinner, the innkeeper reviewing accounts, and the attendant napping at the counter.

Young Lord Gong’s arrival lit up the place, and all three stared, dumbfounded.

An Yi felt again that traveling with him was a mistake.

Young Lord Gong woke the innkeeper, asked for three rooms, and had dinner brought up.

After dinner, An Yi took her bundle of medicine to the adjacent room, where the oil lamp burned all night. Young Lord Gong heard faint noises from next door and frowned. She wasn’t sleeping—what was she doing?

At dawn, they set out. An Yi looked tired, and as soon as she boarded the carriage, she hugged her bundle and fell into a deep sleep.

Young Lord Gong, full of suspicion but unable to ask, rested his chin on his hand and watched her slumber.