Chapter Ninety-Six: Enemies Meet Only by Fate (1)

That morning, Li Fuguo changed into plain clothes and, escorted by more than a dozen palace guards under Xianyu Lie and two little eunuchs who served him personally, rode out of Jiangning City on a tall horse, crunching through the snow. Along the official road pressed flat by snow, they made their way slowly toward Lion Mountain.

Yang Kuan, the Yang family’s steward, together with the Yang household servants and several soldiers from Yang Qi’s army, had erected open shelters along the route and, with conspicuously eager courtesy, prepared food and hot water for Li Fuguo’s party. Nearly every li or so, another group of men from Yang Qi’s side waited by the roadside to greet them.

Outwardly, Li Fuguo praised Yang Qi’s considerate hospitality with profuse thanks. Inwardly, however, he cursed Yang Qi as nothing but a heap of rotten mud. If curses could kill, Yang Qi would have died countless times over.

More than anyone, Li Fuguo understood that Yang Qi’s men had not come to wait on him, but to watch him, threaten him, and warn him. If anything at all happened to the dozen men in his party, a storm of ruthless suppression would surely follow.

Li Fuguo’s heart grew heavier by the moment, and he gradually began to feel that escaping Yang Qi’s grasp might be nearly impossible. Yang Qi was deep and cunning, meticulous in all things. Though he did not think Li Fuguo would dare run, he still took precautions, sending out so many men under the guise of protection and care that Li Fuguo and his party were kept under surveillance at all times.

Li Fuguo calculated that the dozen or so palace guards under Xianyu Lie were indeed fierce and capable, but two fists could not contend with four hands. On Yang Qi’s ground, opposing Yang Qi’s men would be no different from throwing eggs against a rock, trying to stop a chariot with one’s arm, or a gnat shaking a tree.

The snow had already stopped, and a crimson sun hung high in the sky. Lion Mountain was dressed in silver, and beneath the sun’s brilliance the view was breathtakingly majestic. Li Fuguo, with Xianyu Lie and the others, climbed the mountain in weary boredom, drawing ever closer to River-Viewing Tower.

By then, River-Viewing Tower had become a grand silver structure, standing on the mountainside and gleaming in harmony with the snow-clad forests all around it.

Panting, Li Fuguo trudged slowly up the treacherous mountain path packed with snow, straining with all his strength before finally reaching the foot of the tower. Standing before it, he raised his head to gaze at the pavilion’s upper eaves, where the glazed tiles were covered in white, and at the bronze bells beneath them, likewise buried in snow. His eyes flickered restlessly as he silently schemed.

“Upstairs!”

With a wave of his hand, Li Fuguo shook off the support of the two little eunuchs and strode toward the stairs. Xianyu Lie led several palace guards after him, while the remaining guards stood watch below, maintaining enough vigilance for the whole place.

With some difficulty, Li Fuguo climbed to the second floor of River-Viewing Tower. Standing before the corridor of the upper pavilion, he looked out over the endless snowy landscape, his thoughts flashing like lightning. After a long while, he gritted his teeth and decided to take the risk and make a gamble.

He had an intensely strong feeling that if he did not seize this chance to flee, Yang Qi might soon make a move against him.

“Xianyu Lie,” Li Fuguo said lightly, his gaze cold and dark.

Xianyu Lie clasped his fists and bowed. “Your servant is here!”

At dusk, on the only road leading out of Luogang Town at the southern edge of Tianchang County, four fast horses galloped over the thick snow, kicking up a spray of snowflakes and muddy slush. Since it was the dead of winter and the fields lay idle, not only were the farmers from the nearby villages nowhere to be seen, but even the town’s residents mostly stayed indoors by their braziers, keeping warm.

The town had only three or four hundred inhabitants, an official post station that had long since fallen into disuse, and a single inn open to the public. The post station had been abandoned mainly because, after An Lushan’s rebellion, the number of merchant caravans coming south from north of the river had dropped sharply. Many now avoided the place altogether and instead took a route farther through the southern mountains. At the same time, war raged fiercely in the north, the supply lines were cut, and the post station lost whatever value and function it once had.

With the authorities indifferent and no one sent to maintain it, it naturally fell into ruin.

Fortunately, a trickle of merchants still passed through on their way south, so the town’s one small inn continued to operate, albeit barely.

The inn was a somewhat dilapidated two-story wooden building. The signboard at the entrance, bearing the name Peace Inn, had long since been stained and corroded, the characters almost impossible to make out. The proprietor, Zhong Wuniang, lounged idly in the room behind the main hall, wrapped in a thick linen quilt, dozing in a half-awake haze; meanwhile, the inn’s only servant, Zhong Ma, her kinsman, was squatting at the doorway with great enthusiasm, skinning a wild rabbit.

No merchant had stayed at the inn for several days. Since there was nothing else to do, Zhong Ma had set a few snares in the nearby Upper Pond Gully. He had gone to check them that morning and found that they had caught two plump gray wild rabbits, as well as an ugly badger.

The badger’s meat was not fit to eat; it could only be sold to the town grocer to be rendered into badger oil. But the rabbits were a delicacy. Zhong Ma reckoned that if the two rabbits were skinned and cleaned, then stewed in a pot with some wild mushrooms, chestnuts, red dates, and the like, the result would be excellent, both for eating the meat and drinking the broth.

Then came the sound of dense hoofbeats, growing nearer.

Zhong Ma was startled, then looked up excitedly toward the road and saw three or four horses entering the town and coming straight toward the inn.

He put aside the wild rabbit in his hands and set it on the earthen platform by the inn’s entrance. There was already a layer of snow there, so the meat would not be dirtied. He casually grabbed a handful of snow from the ground and rubbed the grime and blood off his hands, then stood in the middle of the road and called out, “Honored guests, are you here for lodging?”

The leader, Kong Sheng, dismounted. He glanced at the shabby little inn, then at Zhong Ma, and smiled. “Yes, we want rooms. Do you have vacancies?”

“Yes, yes, of course! We have the finest guest rooms. Four honored guests—how many rooms would you like?” Zhong Ma wore a broad smile. His sharp little eyes blinked as he quietly sized up the four of them.

As the saying went, a man is judged by his clothes and a horse by its saddle. In the highly appearance-conscious Great Tang, with its love of refinement and outward grace, Kong Sheng and the others were dressed in splendid garments, carried themselves with unusual bearing, and rode powerful tall horses. To the servant Zhong Ma, they seemed naturally like important men, the sort one would not easily encounter.

“Since there are four of us, of course we’ll need four rooms,” Mu Changfeng said with a faint smile. “Good man, hurry and prepare the rooms and some wine and food. We’ve come a long way and need a proper meal and a rest. Also, tend to our horses well. Do not neglect them!”

“Certainly!” Zhong Ma smiled ingratiatingly as he took the reins of the white horse, Zhui Feng, from Kong Sheng’s hand, then called into the inn’s main hall, “Wuniang, we have guests!”

Zhong Wuniang, who had been dozing in a daze inside, was jolted awake by his shout. She sprang from the bed, quickly grabbed her cloak and wrapped herself in it, then walked toward the front hall and saw four guests entering.

The one in front looked to be sixteen or seventeen. He had handsome features, a tall, slender figure, and a refined bearing, though he wore a fur-lined cloak and his complexion was slightly pale. Behind him came another man, dressed in a single-layer white robe despite the deep winter, with a dashing sky-blue headscarf tied around his hair and a treasured sword at his waist. He was strikingly heroic. Farther back were two sturdy men in their thirties, broad-shouldered and muscular, each carrying a curved blade, their faces bronze-dark.

Zhong Wuniang had taken over the inn from her dead husband three or four years earlier. She often dealt with merchants from all over and had seen many different kinds of people, so she knew a thing or two. A single glance told her that these four were no ordinary travelers and could not be treated carelessly.

With a smile, Zhong Wuniang curtsied to Kong Sheng, then led the four of them up the creaking stairs to inspect the rooms.

Seeing that the innkeeper was in her late twenties, alluring in face and graceful in figure, with a common married woman’s side-swept hairstyle and a touch of powder on her face that gave her some charm, the brothers Wuxian and Wujie could not help stealing several extra glances. Wuxian in particular fixed his eager eyes on the rounded sway of Zhong Wuniang’s backside. She seemed to notice, for she suddenly stopped, turned back, and flashed him a radiant smile. The moment that smile bloomed, it was full of irresistible allure and left Wuxian utterly entranced.

“Ahem.”

Mu Changfeng cleared his throat and shot Wuxian a covert glare.

Only then did Zhong Wuniang smile and push open the door to one of the rooms. “Honored guests, please see whether this will do.”

Inside there was only a bed, a small low table, and a lamp. Aside from these, there was nothing at all. It could be said to be exceedingly plain, but in this remote little town, to have even a room in which to lodge, eat, and escape the wind and rain, what more could one ask for?

Kong Sheng smiled. “This is fine. Innkeeper, open four rooms for us, and prepare some food and wine as well.”

Zhong Wuniang looked at Kong Sheng and smiled coyly. “Young master, food we do have, but in a small place like ours, and with the roads sealed by heavy snow, there are only a few cold cakes and millet porridge. I wonder if the four honored guests will be able to eat them.”

Kong Sheng let out a soft sigh. He was wounded and had lost too much blood, and urgently needed nourishment to restore his vitality. If the fare was too simple, he feared he might not be able to endure it. Then he suddenly remembered that when they had entered, he had seen two skinned fat rabbits set apart at the door, and said, “Innkeeper, I saw your servant cleaning those wild rabbits outside. Sell those two rabbits to us as well. And do you have any poultry, such as chickens or ducks?”

“Yes, my brother caught several pheasants the day before yesterday and we have not had the chance to eat them yet. Since the young master likes them, this servant will tell the helper to slaughter a chicken and cook it, then send it up for the honored guests.”

“But as for the rabbits...” Zhong Wuniang hesitated a little before saying with a smile, “There is something somewhat taboo about rabbit meat. Gentlefolk usually do not eat it. Only we common country folk pay no mind to such things...”

Kong Sheng waved a hand. “No matter. We are not so particular. Just stew them as well.”

Wuxian frowned and interjected, “Young master, rabbit soup is a dish of offense. We cannot eat it.”

Mu Changfeng curled his lip. “You have far too many quirks. In years past I often shot wild rabbits and roasted them over a fire to eat, and never saw any taboo in that.”

Wuxian was somewhat afraid of Mu Changfeng and did not dare say more. He merely snorted coldly, while his covetous gaze continued to circle Zhong Wuniang in secret.

Kong Sheng waved a hand. “Then trouble you, innkeeper.”

Zhong Wuniang cast Kong Sheng a flirtatious glance and turned to go downstairs to make the arrangements.