“Is this really okay? No matter what, you still have a man you’re supposed to marry.”
“Is Little Xi jealous?”
“No. I just don’t want my wine-guzzling master to get fired by your mother.”
Nanxi felt no jealousy at all. He was only worried about having no food next month—and about his reputation being ruined forever. Then he’d have no hope of marrying anyone decent. He might even end up drowned in a pig cage.
“If you’re worried about meals, Little Xi should just marry me instead. Then Master Shuang wouldn’t have to work so hard teaching martial arts, and I’d naturally take care of her in her old age.”
Zhang Yiwei spoke softly while continuing to paint the beautiful figure before her, clad in Western Regions dancing attire. Nanxi knew she wasn’t joking, and the offer did tempt the boy for a moment.
“I’m completely serious, you know~”
“No matter how serious you are, it’s useless. Setting aside what my master and your mother would think—even I don’t want to marry anyone.”
The boy sitting in the chair, flipping through a storybook, made his meaning clear in every word: he had no intention of marrying anyone.
“Why not? This would be filial—”
Before she could finish, Nanxi cut her off.
“Don’t throw Confucian platitudes at me. I only have one life to live. I’ll do what I want, as long as I don’t commit evil or break the law.”
He added the reason behind it.
“Who says a person has to leave anything behind after death? When you’re dead, you’re dead—nothing remains. So I’m going to live boldly and freely!”
“But what about worldly responsibilities?”
“Let them all go to hell! Aside from providing for my wine-guzzling master in her old age, there’s nothing in this world I’m obligated to do.”
At this, Zhang Yiwei set down her brush and slumped back in her chair with a sigh.
“Little Xi, sometimes I truly envy you for being an orphan. No cursed rules to follow, unbound by society. You can do whatever you want without reading the drivel written by those sages or pretending in front of a bunch of old fossils.”
Hearing this, Nanxi actually disagreed. He tossed aside his book, somewhat indignant.
“You scholar-gentry types are born into privilege, yet you always write about pitying poor folk like us. Not going hungry is already a blessing—if you have blessings to enjoy, stop complaining.”
As he spoke, he rolled his eyes at Zhang Yiwei.
“If you lived like me, who knows how much you’d envy your own life. Young miss, no sugarcane is sweet on both ends. To eat fish, you must also endure its stench.”
“Indeed. As the saying goes, fortune lies where misfortune lurks, and disadvantage hides within advantage. Nothing in this world comes with blessing untouched by calamity.”
With that, Zhang Yiwei walked over and began furiously kneading Nanxi’s soft cheeks.
“Tell me honestly—has Little Brother Xi never thought about marrying Big Sister?”
“Two years ago, a little. Now, not at all.”
Nanxi was perfectly frank. At ten, he had briefly entertained the idea—no man dislikes a capable woman, after all. But as his martial arts and knowledge grew, he realized it had only been admiration for strength.
That sort of feeling couldn’t be called love. Yet Zhang Yiwei saw it differently. Over the years, she had convinced herself that his fading affection stemmed from her withdrawal from the world.
“Is it because Big Sister didn’t become an official? Or because I’m engaged to some stinking man?”
For once, this strong and independent woman revealed a pitiful expression. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, exposing a sudden vulnerability.
And that left Nanxi completely at a loss. No matter how many books he’d read or experiences he’d had, he was still a child not yet thirteen. He had never witnessed an adult crying like this.
But then the flustered boy’s reaction made the woman suddenly burst into laughter.
“Little Brother Xi is actually panicking over me. Looks like you do have me in your heart.”
Nanxi’s expression instantly calmed at those words. Without another word, he swiftly grabbed his warm outer clothes from the table.
“Hey, don’t go—Big Sister was wrong. I won’t tease you anymore, okay?”
“Hmph!”
Nanxi remained silent, giving only a cold huff before turning his back to her.
“How about I give Little Brother Xi two strings of cash~?”
Zhang Yiwei coaxed softly. This time, Nanxi turned around, snatched the money straight from her hand, and huffed again.
“Hmph!”
“So adorable.”
“Hmph~”
This one carried a hint of smug knowledge.
Afterward, Nanxi stepped behind the screen to change clothes. During this, a certain boy-obsessed young woman tried to sneak up for a glimpse of that lovely, tender body.
She was rewarded with a fist to the nose. After catching a satisfactory view, the peach-blossom-eyed woman collapsed, blood streaming from her nostrils.
“To die beneath a pomegranate skirt—even as a ghost, one would be romantic.”
“Hmph!”
Once dressed, Nanxi went to the pond. From his pocket he drew a long hemp rope. With both hands moving in a blur, twelve koi were soon neatly bound—alive and whole. He couldn’t do anything to Zhang Yiwei, but the fish could avenge him.
For the rest of the harsh winter, Nanxi and Shuang Feixue would not lack for meat.
Oh, right—Nanxi also slipped away with a few of those novels.
Leaving Zhang Yiwei lying alone on the floor. She licked the blood at the corner of her mouth, savoring the memory of the boy’s rough punch.
Oddly, it excited her a little.
The peach-blossom-eyed girl on the ground began to ponder one thing: how to make that worthless, sickly son of a mediocre county magistrate die sooner?
“Perhaps… have an incompetent physician prescribe a strong dose?”
She murmured to herself. After all, that worthless magistrate’s son wasn’t even fit to carry shoes for her Little Xi.
Zhang Yiwei thought to herself.
…………………………
From the Liang capital of Bianliang to the Zhou capital of Daxing lay a thousand li. The people of Liang missed Daxing—it had once been their Youzhou, not the barbarians’ Daxing. Yet Zhou had warhorses, while Liang had only pedantic scholars, unable to reclaim lost territory.
Thus Liang was forced to imitate the Spring and Autumn period, sending imperial princesses as hostages to the enemy.
It was tragic, a humiliation. But the people of Liang could not resist it. Perhaps this world would never return to the celestial empire where all nations paid tribute, never return to the magnificent Great Xia that once repelled the northern Xiongnu, never return to the overwhelmingly prosperous Great Sheng that all countries once came to worship.
Those glories, the people of Liang might never see again.
Beside the carriage, several guards drank cold water and ate hard, dry biscuits. In this bitter winter, if even one of those items had been warm, it wouldn’t have been so hard to swallow.
Their master inside the carriage fared far better: the one surnamed Feng drank honeyed water and ate tender lamb. What could they do? The emperor of Liang was, after all, also surnamed Feng.
“Nanny Su, how many more days until we reach Youzhou?”
The person inside stretched out a hand to lift the curtain and asked softly. Outside stood the elderly woman.
“Reporting to the young miss: no more than ten days. Forgive this old servant’s presumption, but please do not use the name Youzhou here—it could bring trouble.”
At those words came the sound of something striking wood from within, as if someone had punched the panel. After the noise faded, the “young miss” inside continued.
“Understood. Then where in Zhou are we now?”
“This old servant just sent someone to inquire. It is an obscure little town called Huaniang.”