PCA Chapter 226

Two months later.

 

In a frontier town in the northwest called Sangmu Tuo, located at the foot of the Tianshan Mountains where the Beiting Protectorate bordered the Turks, there lived Han Chinese, Tibetans, and even blonde, blue-eyed Persians and Arabs could be seen everywhere. On the first and fifteenth of each month was market day, when the entire town would empty out and everyone would gather on the main street in the south of town. With incompatible currencies and languages, they adopted the simplest method of bartering—sheepskin blankets, cheese, and dried meat for salt, cloth, and tea leaves. With goods and payment settled, there had never been any disputes.

 

Recently, a new stall had been set up at the eastern end of the market, somewhat different from what was sold there. This stall had no sheepskins or dried meat, no salt or tea leaves—instead, it displayed paintings.

 

There were green mountains and clear waters, flowers and birds, insects and fish, ladies with flowers in their hair, and strange pines and rocks. The stall owner not only sold paintings but could also paint on the spot. Whatever you could name, those skillful hands could bring to life on paper with a splash of ink.

 

Today, quite a crowd had gathered around the stall. The people of the northern frontier had never seen southern scenery, and they found the small bridges and flowing water quite curious. On the water were two mandarin ducks sleeping with necks intertwined, tender and full of artistic conception.

 

Su Cen had just finished his brushwork when he heard someone click their tongue: “It’s a good painting, but… a bit too plain.”

 

Su Cen looked up to see the speaker wearing a sheepskin cloak with a bulging waist, looking like a merchant from beyond the passes. Without hesitation, he set down his brush, abandoned black ink for red, and dotted in a few peach blossoms, then painted two golden pheasants under the tree.

 

Some people sighed and left—such a good painting, ruined.

 

But the man in the sheepskin cloak slapped his thigh: “Now that’s right! I’ll buy this painting!”

 

After the ink dried, Su Cen rolled up the painting for the customer. When the man left, Su Cen weighed the silver in his hand with satisfaction, packed up his stall, and left.

 

Passing by the town’s only inn, he ordered a pot of mare’s milk wine and half a roasted leg of lamb. Just as he finished packing and stepped out of the shop, he saw a group of horsemen approaching from the east, all dressed as soldiers, riding through the market and stirring up dust and curses.

 

Su Cen hid in the shadows, gradually frowning, and only slowly emerged after they had completely disappeared.

 

He didn’t linger in town, took his things, and headed in the opposite direction from where the group had gone.

 

At the edge of town was a small thatched hut, situated at the foot of Tianshan Mountain, with low-hanging eaves, isolated and secluded.

 

The wooden gate creaked softly as Su Cen pushed it open. He saw that the two newly cultivated plots in the yard had just been watered, and the person who had watered them was crouching in front of the wet earth, staring at the ground in a daze.

 

Su Cen also came over and looked in the direction of Li Shi’s gaze for a long time without seeing anything, finally asking: “What are you looking at?”

 

Li Shi frowned slightly with a serious expression: “Why hasn’t it sprouted yet?”

 

Su Cen: “…You only planted it yesterday.”

 

“Plant one grain in spring, harvest ten thousand in autumn. Time is so urgent—shouldn’t this thing change daily?” Li Shi reached out hesitantly: “Did I bury it too deep?”

 

“Even if you held the seeds in your palm, they wouldn’t sprout right now,” Su Cen quickly grabbed that mischievous hand and pulled him up. “Business was good today—I met a sucker. Let’s splurge today and have a good meal.”

 

Li Shi let Su Cen lead him into the house and took the things from his hands: “What did you paint?”

 

“I turned a painting worth a few coins into something worthless.” Su Cen turned back and waved the wine pouch at Li Shi: “There’s no good wine in town, so I got you some local mare’s milk wine. I don’t know if you can get used to it.”

 

“Don’t worry about me—I’m used to everything. I’m just afraid you won’t adapt.”

 

Only then did Su Cen remember that Li Shi had stayed in the northern desert and would naturally understand the local customs better than him.

 

Li Shi reached out with warm hands to wrap around his, pinching his reddened fingertips and gently rubbing them.

 

This place wasn’t like the interior—it was several degrees colder than Chang’an. Although spring had arrived many days ago, the wind crossing the northern desert was still like knives, undiminished in power.

 

His fingers slowly warmed in Li Shi’s palm, bringing slight pain. He had stood at the market for half the day and held a brush for a long while, only now slowly feeling the effects. Under Li Shi’s ministrations, his fingers and body warmed up. Taking advantage of Li Shi looking down, he leaned forward and kissed his lips lightly like a dragonfly touching water.

 

When Li Shi looked up, the perpetrator had already resumed his serious demeanor, except for the crimson at his ear tips, just like the peach blossoms in the painting.

 

Li Shi continued rubbing his hands without expression, but used subtle force to guide him slowly backward until he could retreat no further and was pressed against the wall.

 

Su Cen met Li Shi’s eyes and clearly saw the unspoken meaning within them. Somewhat flustered, he averted his gaze: “What… what are you doing?”

 

Li Shi chuckled softly, his deep, mellow voice close to Su Cen’s ear: “Wife has worked hard earning money to support the family. This husband will feed you something good.”

 

Though white snow seemed to resent spring’s lateness, it still danced through the courtyard trees.

 

In the afternoon, though the sunlight was still bright, snow began falling unexpectedly. The snow seemed to come from the sky and the mountains, passing through courtyards and quickly covering the ground with a white layer.

 

Li Shi set up a table on the kang with a small fire simmering bubbling wine. Su Cen was too lazy to put on clothes and clung to the bedding, curled in the corner letting the steaming mare’s milk wine gently moisten his lashes.

 

Rarely having half a day of leisure, the two chatted intermittently. When they fell silent, only the bubbling sounds remained.

 

“I saw a group of soldiers in town today,” Su Cen suddenly said. “From their dress, they looked like courier officials.”

 

Li Shi pressed his lips and was silent for a moment before finally saying: “Then we can’t stay here either.”

 

Su Cen held his wine with his head lowered, also falling silent.

 

Initially, they had indeed been heading beyond the passes. Li Sheng acted swiftly and decisively—as they traveled, they saw wanted posters for them posted everywhere along the way. Su Cen held the forged travel document that Shen Yugui had given him, and going beyond the passes was indeed the safest option. They had walked all the way here, just one step away from the frontier, yet had stopped.

 

Perhaps because it was a border town where Li Sheng’s orders hadn’t yet reached, or perhaps because they still had feelings for this homeland, they harbored a thread of hope and ultimately stopped here.

 

A thatched hut, two small fields—just a temporary resting place, not even one ten-thousandth of Xingqing Palace, yet it carried the meaning of “home.” Here Li Shi wasn’t a prince, and he wasn’t any kind of lord. The two could rarely set aside strict hierarchy and public prejudice to live like ordinary people. Who would have thought they’d have to flee again so soon?

 

He suddenly understood why Li Shi was so anxious to see the seeds sprout. In these precarious times, every peaceful day was heaven’s mercy.

 

“What if…” Su Cen tentatively began, but stopped mid-sentence. They had taken enormous risks to reach this point—they couldn’t let a moment of weakness at the end ruin everything.

 

“Let’s go to town tomorrow and see,” Li Shi said. “I’ll go with you. Let’s not frighten ourselves—it might not be arrest warrants for us.”

 

Su Cen nodded while holding his cup. That was all they could do.

 

Early the next morning, the two simply packed and left together. Su Cen tucked the forged travel document in his chest. If what was posted in town were indeed arrest warrants for them, they would immediately cross the border without needing to return.

 

They didn’t have much to begin with. Su Cen brought his beloved writing brushes, an inkstone, a few personal garments, and after some thought, a set of white-glazed blue porcelain tea ware. Before leaving, looking at the still-unsprounted field, he suddenly regretted impulsively trading a jade pendant for these seeds.

 

Having hope created attachment, which made leaving difficult.

 

Looking back to see Li Shi waiting for him a few steps away, eyes deep and calm, he finally locked the door and hurried to catch up.

 

The town was still bustling as usual. The inns and tea shops he frequented were open as normal.

 

The town’s notices were posted on the outer wall of the county office. The two squeezed through layers of crowds to get closer and finally see the content of the announcement.

 

The two exchanged glances, both seeing worry in each other’s eyes.

 

What was posted there wasn’t an arrest warrant, but a mourning announcement to the realm—

 

Empress Dowager Chu had died.

 

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