PCA Chapter 149

Qu Ling’er absolutely refused to continue.

 

He clung to the courtyard’s wicker fence, and despite Su Cen’s pulling and tugging, refused to move another step, embodying the spirit of “as long as the fence stands, I shall not move.”

 

Su Cen couldn’t very well tear down someone else’s fence, and he looked somewhat helplessly at the old man, who was busy peeling a salted duck egg, its bright yellow yolk dripping onto the rice, releasing a tantalizing aroma.

 

Night was approaching, and the situation in the village was unclear. Rather than risking entering the village, it might be better to spend the night here. Even if the old man tried something, the two of them could certainly handle themselves.

 

Su Cen cupped his hands toward the old man: “It’s getting late, and my young companion is afraid to travel at night. Would it be possible for us to stay here?”

 

The old man, as if having already anticipated their reaction, gave a cold laugh: “Come on over.”

 

Qu Ling’er didn’t hesitate at all, immediately releasing the fence and taking a seat at the table, reaching for a duck egg to peel.

 

The old man brought out two bowls from the firewood room, containing thin watery gruel with so few grains of rice they could be counted—the leftover water from when he had scooped out the rice earlier. He glanced at the salted duck egg in Qu Ling’er’s hands, and once it was peeled, he took it, skillfully divided it into three parts, giving Su Cen and Qu Ling’er each half the egg white while the entire oily yolk fell into his own bowl.

 

“Eat,” the old man gestured with his chopsticks toward Su Cen and Qu Ling’er, then raised his own bowl and began eating with gusto.

 

Su Cen and Qu Ling’er looked at each other, and after a moment, Su Cen lowered his head with a smile, picked up his bowl as if nothing was amiss, and said to Qu Ling’er: “Let’s eat.”

 

Having something to eat was better than going hungry. The two quickly finished their gruel and egg. The yolk had been perfectly pickled, though the white was quite salty—but it paired well with the thin gruel.

 

Su Cen finished first and put down his bowl and chopsticks, looking at the old man and asking: “May I ask how to address you, elder?”

 

The old man had finished eating and was now tearing vegetable leaves to feed the chicks. Without looking up, he replied: “Just an old man, no need for formal address.”

 

“Then I’ll call you Senior,” Su Cen said. “Is your surname Lu?”

 

The old man kept his head down without answering, which was taken as confirmation.

 

“Senior Lu,” Su Cen asked respectfully, “Is everyone in Lu Family Village surnamed Lu?”

 

The old man looked up at Su Cen, “Lu Family Village—what else would they be surnamed but Lu?”

 

“But you also said this place hasn’t been Lu Family Village for a long time.”

 

The old man replied calmly: “The older generation is gone, and I don’t know the younger ones. For me, this indeed is no longer Lu Family Village.”

 

“Then what do you mean about Lu Family Village having ghosts?” Su Cen asked, emphasizing the words “having ghosts.”

 

The old man stopped what he was doing, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes gradually gathering together. His eyes, gleaming with a sharp light, fixed on Su Cen, inexplicably causing one to break out in a cold sweat.

 

“Ghosts aren’t frightening; what’s frightening is the human heart,” the old man finally spoke after a long while, slowly rising. His words seemed directed at both Qu Ling’er and Su Cen: “Go to sleep early. This place isn’t safe after dark.”

 

After the old man left, Qu Ling’er tilted his head and asked: “What did that old man mean? So cryptic—I think he’s the one who seems like a ghost.” He then turned to Su Cen, “Brother Su, what should we do?”

 

“Since we’re here, we’ll make the best of it.” Su Cen stacked the bowls together. “Go wash the dishes.”

 

Eight hundred li away, in Yingchuan Prefecture.

 

The Yangdi official post station was the largest under Yingchuan Prefecture’s jurisdiction. For Prince Ning returning to Chang’an from Xuzhou, Yingchuan was a necessary stop, and the Yangdi post station was the inevitable choice. Thus, upon receiving the news, the station master had been anxiously preparing, clearing the station of all unnecessary personnel, replacing tables, chairs, and beds with new ones, and even cleaning the stables until they gleamed. He feared that the slightest dissatisfaction might displease His Highness and cost him his life.

 

It was nearly dark when Prince Ning’s procession finally arrived, and the previously empty post station was instantly filled with horses and carriages. The station master had never seen such grandeur and bustled about making arrangements. Prince Ning himself wasn’t difficult to serve—he went directly to the guest room after dismounting, and all food and drink were delivered to his room. The difficult ones were the Turkic guards under Prince Ning’s command—all tall and robust, unable to communicate, and extremely loud. The station master, with sweat pouring down his face, used elaborate hand gestures to finally get them settled.

 

In the distance, lantern shadows flickered. In the hall, people were drinking and feasting, consuming meat and wine in large quantities. The aroma of food and alcohol drifted with the wind, exuding an air of extravagance.

 

The station master had finished inspecting the horses in the stable and fed them premium fodder. Having no desire to return and attend to the group of barbarians, he simply sat by the feeding trough, stealing a moment of rest amidst the busyness.

 

In the center of the courtyard sat a large black box, square and straight, blending with the night so completely that not even a seam was visible.

 

The station master was just wondering what treasure might be inside the box, so tightly sealed, when suddenly there was a “thud” from within.

 

The station master was startled, nearly falling backward into the feeding trough. As if aware of his presence, the box made another sound before he could recover.

 

The station master stood up shakily, unsure what to do. After much hesitation, he decided to go forward and take a look. He had only taken two steps when someone tapped his shoulder, giving him another fright.

 

Turning around, he saw it was the Turkic leader, a full head taller than him, with pale eyes that coldly warned: “Stay away.”

 

The station master immediately nodded in agreement, but his gaze still followed Qi Lin. He saw the man open a small door in the side of the box and pass a steamed bun inside. Then, a hand reached out from the box.

 

There was a person confined inside!

 

Not to mention that the weather was still sweltering, and what it must feel like to be locked in an iron box, but just the size of the box—three feet square—meant that if there truly was a person inside, they could neither stand up nor lie down, but only hunch over, which would be unbearably uncomfortable even for a short time.

 

Moreover, it seemed that even though night had fallen, these people had no intention of letting the person out.

 

What crime could this person have committed to deserve such punishment?

 

After Qi Lin finished delivering the steamed bun, the station master, driven by curiosity, followed him a few steps while cautiously asking: “Sir, is this person an imperial prisoner?”

 

Qi Lin continued walking straight ahead, not looking aside, and replied: “Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”

 

The station master stopped reluctantly and looked back at the large box. The person inside seemed to be choking on the dry steamed bun and began coughing violently, causing the cart holding the box to shake intensely. In the midst of this desperate struggle, the person seemed to realize the station master was still there and began to laugh without reason. The laughter, resonating through the iron box, was clearly mocking. It was interspersed with uncontrollable coughing that wheezed like a broken bellows.

 

“Madman,” the station master spat and turned away.

 

Su Cen sat at the table keeping Qu Ling’er company as he laboriously washed the dishes. Night had completely fallen, and the first stars had appeared. Bored, Su Cen tapped his fingers on the table surface while looking up to count the stars.

 

The heavy darkness was like an enormous black curtain. As the blackness deepened, stars revealed themselves one by one, becoming more and more numerous until they formed a band of the Milky Way.

 

After a moment, Su Cen gave up, as the stars became too numerous to count—some bright, others dim and flickering. Su Cen’s eyes grew tired. He closed them to rest for a while before asking Qu Ling’er why he was so afraid of ghosts.

 

Qu Ling’er’s hands paused, apparently surprised that Su Cen had initiated conversation. After a moment, he answered: “Where I lived as a child, I couldn’t see stars. Whether my eyes were open or closed, day or night, it was all the same. Perhaps because the darkness lasted so long, I always felt something was hiding in it. As you said, I scared myself, and it became a sickness.”

 

“You couldn’t see stars?” Su Cen repeated. “Did you live in a cave as a child?”

 

“As far back as I can remember, I lived there with my master. Sometimes my master would take me out, requiring a very long journey, but he would blindfold me so I never knew where the exit was. Later, after my master took control of the Wound Gate and Shock Gate, with secret networks throughout Great Zhou, we left that place.”

 

Su Cen nodded and asked: “What else?”

 

“I only remember that the place was as large as a maze. Once when I was little, I played hide-and-seek with Han Shu and Xiao Hong. I hid myself in a stone crevice, but that bastard Han Shu gave up looking after a while and left. I stayed hidden for ages, even falling asleep. I don’t know how much time passed before hunger made me decide to come out. But as I was leaving, my foot got stuck and I couldn’t pull it out. I thought a ghost was pulling me down and cried and howled terribly until my master rescued me,” Qu Ling’er chuckled. “Later, Han Shu was disciplined by the master, punished to eat while doing handstands for a month, which finally satisfied my great resentment.”

 

Su Cen smiled along. The place Qu Ling’er described must be the headquarters of the Dark Gate, but judging by Qu Ling’er’s demeanor, he probably didn’t remember any useful information about it.

 

After Qu Ling’er finished washing the dishes, they sat in the courtyard for a while before returning to their room. The old man was already preparing to sleep and pointed to a room. When Su Cen and Qu Ling’er opened the door, they discovered that while there was indeed a bed, it was covered with miscellaneous items that would require considerable effort to clear for sleeping.

 

Being guests in someone else’s home, they naturally didn’t complain. Su Cen and Qu Ling’er cleared things away, managing to make a roughly usable space, and worked together to arrange the bedding. Just as they were about to lie down, the old man pushed open the door uninvited, bringing a pot of tea.

 

Qu Ling’er, thirsty from all the work, went to the table and poured himself a cup, commenting, “This old man still has some conscience after all.”

 

Before the tea reached his lips, Su Cen stopped him, looking out the window and saying quietly: “Better safe than sorry.”

 

Qu Ling’er immediately understood: “Is there something wrong with the tea?”

 

“I can’t say for certain whether there’s a problem, but when traveling, one must remain vigilant,” Su Cen paused before adding: “Especially in a place like this.”

 

Qu Ling’er considered this and put down the teacup, “You’re right, Brother Su. I won’t drink it.”

 

Su Cen extinguished the light and added: “Stay alert during the night. Don’t sleep too deeply. I sense this old man isn’t as simple as he seems.”

 

Qu Ling’er nodded, and they both lay down fully clothed. Despite being exhausted from the day’s journey, Qu Ling’er followed Su Cen’s instructions and didn’t sleep deeply, waking up periodically to check.

 

During one such awakening, just as he was about to close his eyes again, a glimpse in his peripheral vision made him start in fright!

 

Someone was standing at the head of the bed with their back to them. Their shadow, elongated by the moonlight, seemed endless—and he hadn’t heard this person enter at all!

 

Qu Ling’er quietly reached for a hidden weapon at his back but was immediately restrained.

 

Su Cen, still with his eyes closed, had placed a warm, strong hand over Qu Ling’er’s and gently shook his head.

 

That’s when Qu Ling’er realized Su Cen was also awake.

 

The old man quietly searched through their luggage, then turned to look at the two of them. Qu Ling’er quickly closed his eyes, but even through his eyelids, he felt a gaze lingering on his face for what seemed like the time it takes to burn a stick of incense. He was nearly unable to maintain the pretense when the gaze finally moved away.

 

Before leaving, the old man lifted the teapot on the table. The tea had already been emptied into the courtyard by Su Cen, so it was light when picked up.

 

The old man smiled meaningfully and no longer restrained his movements, opening the door freely and leaving.

 

“Brother Su,” Qu Ling’er whispered once the man had gone far enough, “you were right. That old man is definitely suspicious.”

 

Su Cen slowly opened his clear eyes and nodded to indicate he understood.

 

“He just went through our luggage,” Qu Ling’er asked in a hushed voice. “Could he have stolen anything?”

 

“I keep the official seal, documents, and money on my person. There’s nothing worth stealing in our luggage, just clothes.”

 

“What do we do now?”

 

Su Cen thought for a moment, pressing his lips together. “Wait and see.”

 

They didn’t have to wait long before their quiet was broken by rustling sounds from the courtyard—stopping and starting rhythmically, like something being repeatedly rubbed against a rough stone surface.

 

Su Cen frowned and pulled Qu Ling’er up, “Let’s go.”

 

The two silently exited the room, and in the cold moonlight quickly located the source of the sound.

 

In the pale moonlight, a face with a vicious grin appeared, and in those withered hands was a gleaming kitchen knife.

 

 

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