Yelü Zongzhen! What is he doing in the city of Luoyang?!
“You know him?” Wu Du says.
“I …” Duan Ling finds himself suddenly at a bit of a loss. More soldiers charge into the room with their weapons raised, and Wu Du draws his sword, killing two Mongolian soldiers. The fighting is absolutely chaotic outside in the alleyway. Before anything else can happen, Duan Ling says, “Come on, let’s get him out of here!”
They take Yelü Zongzhen through an alleyway before crashing into someone’s rear courtyard. The place is no longer occupied; presumably, those living there had run away.
Wu Du stands guard at the door. Duan Ling immediately unstraps Zongzhen’s armour to check over his body carefully. There aren’t any visible cuts on him, but blood is dripping out of his nose, so he’s probably suffered some internal shock from getting hit with the Mongolian soldier’s two-handed sabre. There’s a dent on his helm, so it has most likely taken a direct blow.
“Do you have any needles?” Duan Ling asks, “I only need two.”
Wu Du digs two needles out of a pocket and gives them to Duan Ling, staring at Zongzhen.
“He’s the emperor of Liao,” Duan Ling says.
Wu Du is speechless.
First, Duan Ling sticks one needle in to stabilise his meridians, then he pushes the other needle slowly beneath his ear, holding one end between two fingers and turning it. Through this entire process, he must be extremely careful.
“What are you trying to do?” Wu Du says, “Be more careful. Don’t mess around.”
His father once told him that if someone falls off their horse during battle and hit their head on the ground, they may fall unconscious. When that happens, their brain is concussed and blood must be let out from behind the ear, otherwise the blood will form into a clot and cause vomiting, leaving the patient in a coma.
“He’ll be fine,” Duan Ling replies. “This is first aid.”
As he pulls out the silver needle, dark blood seeps out of the wound as he’d anticipated. Yelü Zongzhen is still unconscious and shows no sign of waking though, so Duan Ling sits him up with his back against the courtyard wall, and pats his face a couple of times.
Yelü Zongzhen has also grown up and grown taller. Last time, during their brief meeting in Shangjing, they were both youths still; to Duan Ling’s surprise, under Zongzhen’s armour, he’s no less muscular than any military officer. It’s clear that during the past two years he hadn’t neglected his equestrian archery — he may have even worked harder than anyone else.
“Zongzhen,” Duan Ling says softly.
The deep furrow between Yelü Zongzhen’s eyebrows softens a little. Duan Ling can’t help but have a lot of mixed feelings about seeing Zongzhen again; he feels guilt-ridden, and also cannot bear to see him this way, but more than anything he’s grateful for his lending food to Ye not so long ago.
Duan Ling sprinkles a topical medicine on Zongzhen’s wound, stopping the bleeding.
“The Khitan soldiers are coming this way,” Wu Du says, peering outside.
“Let’s go.” Duan Ling can only leave Zongzhen behind. As he’s about to exit the room, Wu Du signals to him that they can’t use the door. He wraps one arm around Duan Ling’s waist, and they leap onto the wall before Wu Du picks him up sideways to conceal them in the shadows on the second floor.
Outside, the sound of fighting gradually subsides as the Mongolian army retreats and the Khitan army gains control of the battlefield. It may be because the emperor himself had been supervising the battle, but the soldiers would rather die than submit, giving each of them the strength to best a hundred. They force the Mongols back to the city gates. The battle line is continuously narrowing.
Duan Ling looks on as a squad of bodyguards come in holding torches aloft. When they find the wounded Yelü Zongzhen, they’re seized with panic, and they hurriedly bring in a stretcher to carry him away. Dawn’s first light glows on the horizon; seeing an old friend again has made Duan Ling feel as though their last meeting had happened in a previous incarnation.
“You used to be close friends?” Wu Du asks.
“We only saw each other a few times.”
Chang Liujun catches up to them, and whistles on the roof across the street. Wu Du says, “Come on, let’s make sure Chang Liujun doesn’t find out.”
Duan Ling feels a tinge of alarm, but there’s no time to talk about this anymore. He leaps onto the ground level with Wu Du so they can head to the temple to look for that someone.
The run-down temple Duan Ling once stayed in has already been burned down, and there’s nothing there but ruins. Several dead bodies lie beneath the tiles and bricks. When Chang Liujun comes over to rendezvous with them, the three of them look all over the temple carefully, while Duan Ling is still lost in his thoughts.
All around them is the sound of people crying. Chang Liujun and Wu Du lift a pillar together, saving quite a few people as they do so.
“He’s not here,” Chang Liujun says, “It’s going to be morning soon. What should we do?”
Duan Ling remembers that he and Wu Du are still supposed to be Tangut, father and son, and now Wu Du is dressed in a set of rogue’s blacks, and somehow they’re also accompanied by a mysterious Chang Liujun, so that’s probably going draw the Khitan military’s attention. The Khitans and the Mongols have just finished fighting, and patrols are rushing past them in search of Mongolians that have been trapped behind the city walls. It won’t be long before they declare a thorough search of the city, and if the soldiers notice them, they won’t be able to hide anymore.
“Let’s head back,” Duan Ling says. “We’ll change our clothes first, then come back out again to figure something out.”
Chang Liujun dashes into a narrow alleyway. Wu Du hesitates. Duan Ling says, “Find some cover, conceal yourself, and follow me.”
Wu Du nods. Duan Ling then turns away from the rundown temple and walks down the avenue.
In his head, the image of Zongzhen’s youthful and yet valiant features keep turning over and over in his head. Back then, Zongzhen had wanted to take him to Zhongjing, but they’d ended up losing touch because the city fell. I wonder if he’s doing well these days?
Duan Ling wonders if Zongzhen would recall what happened in the brief moment before he lost consciousness. Or would he just believe that it was nothing more than a hallucination?
Why did he come to this place?
Duan Ling is full of questions. As he walks through the street, he’d somehow made it to the backdoor of an apothecary without thinking. Looking up, he realises it’s the very same place he used to live; even though it’s been two years since he walked through this street, he’d instinctively come this way.
“Chang Liujun!” Duan Ling says.
“He’s gone,” Wu Du’s voice replies, popping out from somewhere at some point, crouching on the eaves to look down at him.
Duan Ling only wanted to find out if Chang Liujun is still around, to begin with, so it’s good to see that he’s gone. He ponders for a moment before saying to Wu Du, “I want to look in here for a bit.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s where I used to live. Back then, when I was on my way back to Xichuan, I stayed in this apothecary in Luoyang for quite a while.”
“Go on in. I’ll stay outside and keep watch for you.”
Duan Ling goes around the building to the back of the alleyway and gives the door a knock. It isn’t locked, so he pushes the door open and walks inside. It’s already been vacated, and there’s nothing in there but straw paper and rubbish all over the floor.
The proprietor and his family had also left at some point; things really have changed with time. Duan Ling heads farther inside to take a look at the woodshed where he used to sleep. It hasn’t changed one bit.
Wu Du leaps into the courtyard and looks around. Duan Ling smiles at him. “This place used to be my refuge.”
“In the winter of that year?”
“Yeah.” What he feels about this city, more or less, is some measure of gratefulness. He walks through the courtyard with Wu Du, heading for the main doors. Part of the counter has been removed, and almost all of the medicine cabinets on the walls have been emptied.
“The owner probably ran away,” Duan Ling says.
“Not necessarily. Look.”
Duan Ling is talking with Wu Du and almost trips over something on the floor. Startled, he stops in his tracks. There’s a haphazard pile of random things behind the counter, and it appears someone is lying down in there as well.
Wu Du laughs aloud as if he knew Duan Ling would be surprised.
It must be a homeless man. Duan Ling doesn’t want to wake him, so he says, “Let’s go.”
But the vagrant has woken up anyway. Shakily, he crawls his way to an upright position, and after groping around for a chipped ceramic bowl near his bedding, he holds it up and moves his other hand all over the floor around him.
Duan Ling takes a few coppers out of his pocket and tosses them into the beggar’s bowl. It lands with a sing-song of metallic clinks.
“Thank you …” the man says when as he hears the copper coins hitting the bowl. It’s the voice of an old man.
All of a sudden, Duan Ling seems to find this voice familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on where he’s heard it before.
“Hello, sir,” Duan Ling says.
“Oh ye goin’ north and goin’ south, ye rich and noble men, please do a good deed and take pity on this old man … I’ve got no children to depends on, oh —”
“Get your wontons here —”
In a split second, a hoarse voice has somehow dragged Duan Ling’s mind back to a snowy night in Runan.
He simply stands there, just like that, unable to stop trembling.
“What’s the matter?” Wu Du asks.
“Open the door …” Duan Ling says. His voice is shaking.
Wu Du steps onto the counter and flies up to the ceiling beam. He sends a few roof tiles clattering away, and daylight spills into the room, wrapping itself around each speck of dust.
Slowly, Duan Ling gets down on one knee and stares at the old man in amazement.
The old man had gone blind in both eyes. He raises his head as though he has sensed something or other, and a foul stench radiates from his body. Nearby, there is a grass mat and some tattered cotton wadding. This is clearly where he lives. The Mongols and the Khitans had been locked in a battle just one street away, but somehow no one had thought to come in here.
“You’re Gramp—Grampa Qi …? Duan Ling is shaking. His voice doesn’t even feel like it belongs to him anymore.
He finally remembers now, but then Wu Du has suddenly put a hand over his mouth, dragging him behind the counter.
“Who … Who called for me?” The blind old man says shakily.
“Don’t call him!” Wu Du whispers next to Duan Ling’s ear.
Duan Ling is already completely muddled. The old man before him is the very Qian Qi who used to sell wontons outside the Duan family estate in Runan! For a moment Duan Ling didn’t even remember his surname. Back then, the kids just called him “Grampa Qi, Grampa Qi”, and they say he’s been selling wontons in Runan his whole life. Duan Ling had called him “Grampa Qi” too. Just then, he suddenly remembers Chang Pin’s orders, and connects it to this “man by the surname of Qian” — then and only then does he realise that the one he’s looking for is the wonton-peddler Qian Qi!
“He … He’s …”
“Shh.” Wu Du swiftly takes Duan Ling out of the apothecary. Only once they’re out in the alley does Wu Du put his ear by Duan Ling’s lips, signalling that he shouldn’t speak too loudly lest the old man hears him. After all, blind men usually have sensitive hearing.
Quietly, Duan Ling tells Wu Du the whole story. He only thought they were looking for someone from the Duan estate before, so he never thought it may be Qian Qi, but now that they’ve confirmed it, Mu Kuangda really does suspect something! Who knows, it may just be the case that when the Mongol Amga shouted those words at them, it gave him the idea to investigate the crown prince’s family history, and thus sent Chang Pin here to look.
And now Duan Ling finally understands everything.
“What do we do?” Duan Ling is so tense that he’s shaking all over.
“Make Chang Liujun take him back to Jiangzhou. Avoid any contact with him.”
Duan Ling recalls what happened just now, and he can feel his back getting soaked through with sweat. If Wu Du hasn’t stopped him he’s sure he would have blurted out “I’m Duan Ling”.
Also, once Chang Liujun, Mu Kuangda, and Chang Pin speak with the old man, in a fit of dementia he may just tell them how he met Duan Ling in the apothecary. If so, then Duan Ling would never be able to disengage himself.
Wu Du ponders for a moment before telling him, “Hand him to them.”
“Hand him to who?” Duan Ling’s brain has essentially stopped working.
“Hand him to Mu Kuangda, and wait. When he confronts the crown prince in front of everyone, that’s when you reveal yourself.”
Duan Ling doesn’t say anything.
He’s too occupied to think. Too much has happened overnight, leaving his mind filled with a multitude of loose ends, his heart resembling a tangled skein of thread.
“Right.” Duan Ling forces himself to calm down, and says, “You’re right.”
“I’ll go find Chang Liujun at the inn, and we’ll have Chang Liujun take him from here according to plan.”
“But I already called out his name.” Duan Ling asks, “What are we going to do if he ever mentions it?”
“That’s not important,” Wu Du replies. “We can just say we found this out from asking around on our way back.”
Duan Ling forces himself to nod, still breathing too fast.
This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free.
Yelü Zongzhen! What is he doing in the city of Luoyang?!
“You know him?” Wu Du says.
“I …” Duan Ling finds himself suddenly at a bit of a loss. More soldiers charge into the room with their weapons raised, and Wu Du draws his sword, killing two Mongolian soldiers. The fighting is absolutely chaotic outside in the alleyway. Before anything else can happen, Duan Ling says, “Come on, let’s get him out of here!”
They take Yelü Zongzhen through an alleyway before crashing into someone’s rear courtyard. The place is no longer occupied; presumably, those living there had run away.
Wu Du stands guard at the door. Duan Ling immediately unstraps Zongzhen’s armour to check over his body carefully. There aren’t any visible cuts on him, but blood is dripping out of his nose, so he’s probably suffered some internal shock from getting hit with the Mongolian soldier’s two-handed sabre. There’s a dent on his helm, so it has most likely taken a direct blow.
“Do you have any needles?” Duan Ling asks, “I only need two.”
Wu Du digs two needles out of a pocket and gives them to Duan Ling, staring at Zongzhen.
“He’s the emperor of Liao,” Duan Ling says.
Wu Du is speechless.
First, Duan Ling sticks one needle in to stabilise his meridians, then he pushes the other needle slowly beneath his ear, holding one end between two fingers and turning it. Through this entire process, he must be extremely careful.
“What are you trying to do?” Wu Du says, “Be more careful. Don’t mess around.”
His father once told him that if someone falls off their horse during battle and hit their head on the ground, they may fall unconscious. When that happens, their brain is concussed and blood must be let out from behind the ear, otherwise the blood will form into a clot and cause vomiting, leaving the patient in a coma.
“He’ll be fine,” Duan Ling replies. “This is first aid.”
As he pulls out the silver needle, dark blood seeps out of the wound as he’d anticipated. Yelü Zongzhen is still unconscious and shows no sign of waking though, so Duan Ling sits him up with his back against the courtyard wall, and pats his face a couple of times.
Yelü Zongzhen has also grown up and grown taller. Last time, during their brief meeting in Shangjing, they were both youths still; to Duan Ling’s surprise, under Zongzhen’s armour, he’s no less muscular than any military officer. It’s clear that during the past two years he hadn’t neglected his equestrian archery — he may have even worked harder than anyone else.
“Zongzhen,” Duan Ling says softly.
The deep furrow between Yelü Zongzhen’s eyebrows softens a little. Duan Ling can’t help but have a lot of mixed feelings about seeing Zongzhen again; he feels guilt-ridden, and also cannot bear to see him this way, but more than anything he’s grateful for his lending food to Ye not so long ago.
Duan Ling sprinkles a topical medicine on Zongzhen’s wound, stopping the bleeding.
“The Khitan soldiers are coming this way,” Wu Du says, peering outside.
“Let’s go.” Duan Ling can only leave Zongzhen behind. As he’s about to exit the room, Wu Du signals to him that they can’t use the door. He wraps one arm around Duan Ling’s waist, and they leap onto the wall before Wu Du picks him up sideways to conceal them in the shadows on the second floor.
Outside, the sound of fighting gradually subsides as the Mongolian army retreats and the Khitan army gains control of the battlefield. It may be because the emperor himself had been supervising the battle, but the soldiers would rather die than submit, giving each of them the strength to best a hundred. They force the Mongols back to the city gates. The battle line is continuously narrowing.
Duan Ling looks on as a squad of bodyguards come in holding torches aloft. When they find the wounded Yelü Zongzhen, they’re seized with panic, and they hurriedly bring in a stretcher to carry him away. Dawn’s first light glows on the horizon; seeing an old friend again has made Duan Ling feel as though their last meeting had happened in a previous incarnation.
“You used to be close friends?” Wu Du asks.
“We only saw each other a few times.”
Chang Liujun catches up to them, and whistles on the roof across the street. Wu Du says, “Come on, let’s make sure Chang Liujun doesn’t find out.”
Duan Ling feels a tinge of alarm, but there’s no time to talk about this anymore. He leaps onto the ground level with Wu Du so they can head to the temple to look for that someone.
The run-down temple Duan Ling once stayed in has already been burned down, and there’s nothing there but ruins. Several dead bodies lie beneath the tiles and bricks. When Chang Liujun comes over to rendezvous with them, the three of them look all over the temple carefully, while Duan Ling is still lost in his thoughts.
All around them is the sound of people crying. Chang Liujun and Wu Du lift a pillar together, saving quite a few people as they do so.
“He’s not here,” Chang Liujun says, “It’s going to be morning soon. What should we do?”
Duan Ling remembers that he and Wu Du are still supposed to be Tangut, father and son, and now Wu Du is dressed in a set of rogue’s blacks, and somehow they’re also accompanied by a mysterious Chang Liujun, so that’s probably going draw the Khitan military’s attention. The Khitans and the Mongols have just finished fighting, and patrols are rushing past them in search of Mongolians that have been trapped behind the city walls. It won’t be long before they declare a thorough search of the city, and if the soldiers notice them, they won’t be able to hide anymore.
“Let’s head back,” Duan Ling says. “We’ll change our clothes first, then come back out again to figure something out.”
Chang Liujun dashes into a narrow alleyway. Wu Du hesitates. Duan Ling says, “Find some cover, conceal yourself, and follow me.”
Wu Du nods. Duan Ling then turns away from the rundown temple and walks down the avenue.
In his head, the image of Zongzhen’s youthful and yet valiant features keep turning over and over in his head. Back then, Zongzhen had wanted to take him to Zhongjing, but they’d ended up losing touch because the city fell. I wonder if he’s doing well these days?
Duan Ling wonders if Zongzhen would recall what happened in the brief moment before he lost consciousness. Or would he just believe that it was nothing more than a hallucination?
Why did he come to this place?
Duan Ling is full of questions. As he walks through the street, he’d somehow made it to the backdoor of an apothecary without thinking. Looking up, he realises it’s the very same place he used to live; even though it’s been two years since he walked through this street, he’d instinctively come this way.
“Chang Liujun!” Duan Ling says.
“He’s gone,” Wu Du’s voice replies, popping out from somewhere at some point, crouching on the eaves to look down at him.
Duan Ling only wanted to find out if Chang Liujun is still around, to begin with, so it’s good to see that he’s gone. He ponders for a moment before saying to Wu Du, “I want to look in here for a bit.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s where I used to live. Back then, when I was on my way back to Xichuan, I stayed in this apothecary in Luoyang for quite a while.”
“Go on in. I’ll stay outside and keep watch for you.”
Duan Ling goes around the building to the back of the alleyway and gives the door a knock. It isn’t locked, so he pushes the door open and walks inside. It’s already been vacated, and there’s nothing in there but straw paper and rubbish all over the floor.
The proprietor and his family had also left at some point; things really have changed with time. Duan Ling heads farther inside to take a look at the woodshed where he used to sleep. It hasn’t changed one bit.
Wu Du leaps into the courtyard and looks around. Duan Ling smiles at him. “This place used to be my refuge.”
“In the winter of that year?”
“Yeah.” What he feels about this city, more or less, is some measure of gratefulness. He walks through the courtyard with Wu Du, heading for the main doors. Part of the counter has been removed, and almost all of the medicine cabinets on the walls have been emptied.
“The owner probably ran away,” Duan Ling says.
“Not necessarily. Look.”
Duan Ling is talking with Wu Du and almost trips over something on the floor. Startled, he stops in his tracks. There’s a haphazard pile of random things behind the counter, and it appears someone is lying down in there as well.
Wu Du laughs aloud as if he knew Duan Ling would be surprised.
It must be a homeless man. Duan Ling doesn’t want to wake him, so he says, “Let’s go.”
But the vagrant has woken up anyway. Shakily, he crawls his way to an upright position, and after groping around for a chipped ceramic bowl near his bedding, he holds it up and moves his other hand all over the floor around him.
Duan Ling takes a few coppers out of his pocket and tosses them into the beggar’s bowl. It lands with a sing-song of metallic clinks.
“Thank you …” the man says when as he hears the copper coins hitting the bowl. It’s the voice of an old man.
All of a sudden, Duan Ling seems to find this voice familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on where he’s heard it before.
“Hello, sir,” Duan Ling says.
“Oh ye goin’ north and goin’ south, ye rich and noble men, please do a good deed and take pity on this old man … I’ve got no children to depends on, oh —”
“Get your wontons here —”
In a split second, a hoarse voice has somehow dragged Duan Ling’s mind back to a snowy night in Runan.
He simply stands there, just like that, unable to stop trembling.
“What’s the matter?” Wu Du asks.
“Open the door …” Duan Ling says. His voice is shaking.
Wu Du steps onto the counter and flies up to the ceiling beam. He sends a few roof tiles clattering away, and daylight spills into the room, wrapping itself around each speck of dust.
Slowly, Duan Ling gets down on one knee and stares at the old man in amazement.
The old man had gone blind in both eyes. He raises his head as though he has sensed something or other, and a foul stench radiates from his body. Nearby, there is a grass mat and some tattered cotton wadding. This is clearly where he lives. The Mongols and the Khitans had been locked in a battle just one street away, but somehow no one had thought to come in here.
“You’re Gramp—Grampa Qi …? Duan Ling is shaking. His voice doesn’t even feel like it belongs to him anymore.
He finally remembers now, but then Wu Du has suddenly put a hand over his mouth, dragging him behind the counter.
“Who … Who called for me?” The blind old man says shakily.
“Don’t call him!” Wu Du whispers next to Duan Ling’s ear.
Duan Ling is already completely muddled. The old man before him is the very Qian Qi who used to sell wontons outside the Duan family estate in Runan! For a moment Duan Ling didn’t even remember his surname. Back then, the kids just called him “Grampa Qi, Grampa Qi”, and they say he’s been selling wontons in Runan his whole life. Duan Ling had called him “Grampa Qi” too. Just then, he suddenly remembers Chang Pin’s orders, and connects it to this “man by the surname of Qian” — then and only then does he realise that the one he’s looking for is the wonton-peddler Qian Qi!
“He … He’s …”
“Shh.” Wu Du swiftly takes Duan Ling out of the apothecary. Only once they’re out in the alley does Wu Du put his ear by Duan Ling’s lips, signalling that he shouldn’t speak too loudly lest the old man hears him. After all, blind men usually have sensitive hearing.
Quietly, Duan Ling tells Wu Du the whole story. He only thought they were looking for someone from the Duan estate before, so he never thought it may be Qian Qi, but now that they’ve confirmed it, Mu Kuangda really does suspect something! Who knows, it may just be the case that when the Mongol Amga shouted those words at them, it gave him the idea to investigate the crown prince’s family history, and thus sent Chang Pin here to look.
And now Duan Ling finally understands everything.
“What do we do?” Duan Ling is so tense that he’s shaking all over.
“Make Chang Liujun take him back to Jiangzhou. Avoid any contact with him.”
Duan Ling recalls what happened just now, and he can feel his back getting soaked through with sweat. If Wu Du hasn’t stopped him he’s sure he would have blurted out “I’m Duan Ling”.
Also, once Chang Liujun, Mu Kuangda, and Chang Pin speak with the old man, in a fit of dementia he may just tell them how he met Duan Ling in the apothecary. If so, then Duan Ling would never be able to disengage himself.
Wu Du ponders for a moment before telling him, “Hand him to them.”
“Hand him to who?” Duan Ling’s brain has essentially stopped working.
“Hand him to Mu Kuangda, and wait. When he confronts the crown prince in front of everyone, that’s when you reveal yourself.”
Duan Ling doesn’t say anything.
He’s too occupied to think. Too much has happened overnight, leaving his mind filled with a multitude of loose ends, his heart resembling a tangled skein of thread.
“Right.” Duan Ling forces himself to calm down, and says, “You’re right.”
“I’ll go find Chang Liujun at the inn, and we’ll have Chang Liujun take him from here according to plan.”
“But I already called out his name.” Duan Ling asks, “What are we going to do if he ever mentions it?”
“That’s not important,” Wu Du replies. “We can just say we found this out from asking around on our way back.”
Duan Ling forces himself to nod, still breathing too fast.
This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free.
