Chapter Ninety-Five: Seeing the Light of Day Again

In the afternoon, the two of them searched the pit for food again. When An Yi found a few more wild yams, she thought that Young Lord Gong's hunger was his own fault; he deserved it since he knew nothing of wilderness survival. His pallid cheeks were just retribution.

Young Lord Gong worked hard, digging for yams with his precious sword. Suddenly, a flock of birds flew overhead. Instead of landing, the birds relieved themselves mid-flight, dropping their waste from the sky.

A splatter of bird droppings landed squarely on Young Lord Gong’s nose.

An Yi stifled a laugh, covering her mouth.

Young Lord Gong had once been a stickler for cleanliness, but after months of hardship, all such scruples had faded. He calmly plucked a yam leaf and wiped the mess from his nose, sighing, “This truly is a tiger fallen from grace, bullied by dogs.”

An Yi looked up at the drifting clouds and murmured, “Isn’t it said that a plucked phoenix is lesser than a chicken?”

A gleam flashed in Young Lord Gong’s deep eyes, the corners of his lips curling. “Clearly, this is a dragon stranded in shallows, mocked by shrimps.”

Unable to retort, An Yi pursed her lips. An adult does not bicker with a child; she would not stoop to petty squabbles.

Young Lord Gong waited for her reply, but when none came, he knew the verbal sparring was over. This girl’s reticence rivaled even his third brother’s. He chuckled, shook his head, and continued to dig for yams.

When the yams were all unearthed, dusk was still far off. The two sat inside the cave, staring at each other in silence. In a contest of quiet, Young Lord Gong, who had barely spoken in months, admitted defeat and sought a new topic. He had tried before; this girl could kill any conversation in two sentences. He needed another approach.

“Xi’er, how about a game of chess?” he proposed.

“Chess?” An Yi looked at him in confusion. “With what?”

Young Lord Gong drew a chessboard in the dirt with his sword, then retrieved twenty stones from the edge of their grass bed, some round, some square. “Do you want the round or the square ones?”

An Yi blinked. The man must be bored out of his mind to play such childish games. Before she fell in, he must have played against himself, left hand against right. Seeing him so pitiful, she decided to humor him. “The round ones.”

Young Lord Gong selected the round stones for her, about to hand them over when he paused, eyeing her suspiciously. “You do know how to play, right?”

“I do,” An Yi lowered her gaze, hiding the pain in her eyes. She had learned the game from An Jian. They were nearly at the capital, but the people from Blossom Palace had interfered, delaying her for days. When she avenged her blood feud, she would settle accounts with that old witch Wan Yanji.

This game of five-in-a-row was one An Yi merely knew the basics of. She quickly lost to Young Lord Gong, who had practiced for months.

They reset the board and battled again; An Yi suffered another crushing defeat.

The third round—An Yi lost once more.

The fourth—no suspense, another loss.

By the fifth round, An Yi refused to play, dusted her hands, and looked outside the cave. “The sun’s setting. Let’s roast some yams, I’m hungry.”

Young Lord Gong’s eyes curved in a smile as he gathered the stones. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Looking at his beautiful face, An Yi thought to herself: troublemaker! She turned her head away. Tomorrow, she absolutely would not play chess with him and invite humiliation.

After eating yams, An Yi paced around the cave, then climbed onto the grass bed to sleep. Let tomorrow come quickly! Once Young Lord Gong’s strength returned, they could leave this damned pit.

Summer nights were short; dawn broke swiftly. Young Lord Gong gathered a pile of berries. Today they could finally leave, no need to ration food anymore.

“Xi’er, let’s play chess. This time, let’s try a different variation,” Young Lord Gong suggested enthusiastically.

“What do you plan to eat for lunch?” An Yi dodged the topic. She didn’t care much about winning or losing, but constant defeat was bad for her self-confidence.

“We still have yams left.” Young Lord Gong handed the round stones to An Yi.

She didn’t take them, glanced at him, and raised her brow slightly. “Does beating me give you a sense of accomplishment?”

Young Lord Gong pondered seriously, then replied in earnest, “It’s very satisfying.”

An Yi cast him a disdainful sideways glance, then jumped out the cave’s entrance. “You’d get even more satisfaction playing against yourself.”

Young Lord Gong threw the stones down in disgust. He’d played left hand against right for months already. He followed her out, calling, “Wait for me.”

Together, they wandered around the pit.

That afternoon, An Yi administered acupuncture to Young Lord Gong for the third time.

After the treatment, Young Lord Gong sat cross-legged to regulate his breath. True energy surged from his core, coursing through every meridian, flowing through the eight extraordinary vessels, then returning to his dantian.

He opened his eyes, sharp light shining within. Leaping from the grass bed with joy, he realized that the fiery and gentle energies, guided by the Thirteen Ghost Gates Needles, had merged within him, enhancing his power. A blessing in disguise. Perhaps, upon returning, he should thank those who had tried to kill him.

They could finally leave, but An Yi was uneasy. “You’re sure you can take me out? You won’t run out of strength midair and drop me, will you?”

“Trust me, I’ll get you out safely,” Young Lord Gong’s eyes glinted mischievously. “But you’ll need to hold on tight.”

“I will,” An Yi replied; she had no desire to die.

Young Lord Gong wrapped his arm around her waist, tapped his toes lightly on the ground, and soared upward, climbing the pit wall as though it were level ground.

An Yi clung tightly to his collar, utterly astonished.

At the pit’s rim, Young Lord Gong set her down. Seeing her dazed expression, he laughed heartily, “Xi’er, wake up—we’re out!”

His crisp laughter snapped An Yi back to her senses, and she realized she was in his arms. She quickly stepped away, looked down at the pit, and could hardly believe it—it had been so easy to escape? Not dangerous at all. She had fretted for nothing, worried he might run out of strength and drop her to her death.

“Xi’er, over there is a firelight—must be a household. Let’s go,” said Young Lord Gong, yearning most for a hot bath and a hearty meal.

“That’s Blossom Palace territory,” An Yi frowned at the billowing smoke. What eyes did he have? That wasn’t firelight—it was an outright blaze, someone burning the mountain. Who had beaten her to avenging herself against that old witch Wan Yanji?

Young Lord Gong looked at her. “Should we check it out?”

“No,” An Yi shook her head. They were still unprepared, lacking both strength and stamina. She wasn’t about to throw herself into danger; she had more important matters to attend to. “It’s late—we’d better hurry to the city.”

An Yi was adept at foraging, but when it came to navigation, Young Lord Gong surpassed her. The city of Zhengzhou lay dozens of miles away, but fortunately, in summer the gates didn’t close until the first hour of the Hai period. They made it back before the gates shut.

An Yi headed straight for the inn. “Who did you sell my horse to? I don’t care about the gold leaves in the bundle, but hand me back the token and those bottles of medicine.”

“Miss, I didn’t sell your horse. Your horse and bundle were taken by your senior apprentice sister,” the innkeeper replied miserably.

An Yi turned and dashed out, Young Lord Gong close behind.

At the grand Three-Two-One Night Inn, things were different from smaller establishments. The two of them, disheveled and poorly dressed, were rudely stopped at the door by the staff, who refused to let them in.

An Yi was infuriated by their snobbish attitude. She urgently drew Young Lord Gong’s sword and placed it at the attendant’s throat. “I’ll ask one more time—has Madam Cheng checked out or not?”

It was Young Lord Gong’s first time seeing An Yi lose her temper. His eyes narrowed slightly, a playful smile on his lips.

The attendant trembled, replying, “Madam Cheng hasn’t checked out.”

“Move,” An Yi commanded coldly.

No one dared stop the icy, intimidating An Yi, as she strode inside, sword in hand, with a raggedly dressed man of such beauty behind her he seemed almost inhuman.

Qiao Zhen heard the knocking, opened the door, and turned pale at the sight of An Yi. “N-Nineteenth Miss… are you human or ghost?”

Young Lord Gong couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

An Yi darkened. “I’m not dead yet.”

“Nineteenth Miss, you’re alive?” Qiao Zhen still seemed in disbelief.

“She’s alive, not dead. Look, she still casts a shadow,” Young Lord Gong said, suppressing his laughter and pointing at the floor.

“Nineteenth Miss, young master, please come in,” Qiao Zhen said, now certain that the girl before her was alive, and happily ushered An Yi and Young Lord Gong inside.

“Where has Second Sister gone? Has Rui Zhi returned?” An Yi asked urgently.

“Madam went up the mountain with a group to search for you. Young master returned two days ago and is sleeping now. I’ll go fetch him,” Qiao Zhen said.

“No need to wake him. I just want to know if my horse and belongings were brought back by Second Sister,” An Yi said.

“The day Madam found you missing, she brought your horse and things here,” Qiao Zhen replied.

An Yi breathed a sigh of relief. Losing the gold leaves was no matter, but if she lost the Green Robe Token given by Jiang Weiping, her master would surely scare her with a thousand spiders. “Where are my horse and things now?”

“In Madam’s room,” Qiao Zhen answered.

“When will Second Sister return?” An Yi asked.

“Madam said she’ll come back as soon as she’s confronted Blossom Palace and found you.”

“Second Sister challenged Blossom Palace?” An Yi’s expression changed. “She can’t defeat that old witch.”

“Miss, don’t worry. Madam didn’t go alone. She was joined by Hero Jin from the Jin family in Huainan, Hero Shen from Wei Yuan Escort Agency, Hero Lu from Dragon Tiger Gate, Hero Li from Chang Le Gang, and members of the Beggars’ Sect’s Zhengzhou branch. Madam also rallied her own subordinates—over four hundred people went together,” Qiao Zhen said.

An Yi was reassured. No matter how powerful Wan Yanji’s soul-capturing technique, she couldn’t possibly mesmerize four hundred people at once. The fire she’d seen that afternoon must have been set by Li Ruoxian and her companions; Wan Yanji would surely be left in ruins.

“Nineteenth Miss, young master, please sit for a moment. I’ll make some tea,” Qiao Zhen offered.

“No need for tea. Have someone bring us food and hot water for bathing,” Young Lord Gong interrupted. He was famished, and now that he was out of the pit, his fastidiousness returned. He couldn’t stand the stench any longer.

“Yes,” Qiao Zhen replied, and left to find the attendant.