The fare of half a string of coins for a boat ride could be considered very expensive.
Normally, crossing the river would cost only a few copper coins, but five hundred coins was more than ten times that amount.
Mo Li had originally planned to swim across, but the Yangtze River was different from the Qing River. The waters were wider, the currents more turbulent, and using the method of pushing a wooden plank with the current like on the Qing River was a bit risky.
Moreover, back on the Qing River, they weren’t worried about being seen, but now it was different—if spotted, the soldiers stationed on both banks might be alarmed, and if a fight broke out, it would be disastrous.
This hidden concern gradually faded only after Mo Li boarded the ferry. Seeing that the “boatman” merely collected money and didn’t care about anything else, it was clear no one wanted to start a fight. This was good, as Ayanpuka was still scheming something, and judging from his actions at the Chenghuang Temple in Run County, it was clear he wasn’t trying to hide the “strange phenomenon.”
Historically, whenever chaos reigned in the land, strange phenomena would occur, and the common folk believed in such things.
—Originally, one strange event was enough to make people uneasy, but if nothing followed and no one incited them, the public would eventually calm down, as they still had to feed their families. Who had the time to dwell on something so intangible? But if strange events kept happening one after another, even the calmest person would lose their composure.
Meng Qi hadn’t predicted the solar eclipse, but Ayanpuka seemed prepared for it.
A demon flood dragon, a celestial dog devouring the sun…
If they encountered someone walking on water on the river surface, there would be no talk of gods or immortals, but they’d likely say they had seen demons or ghosts.
No matter how dark the sky or how skilled Meng Qi was, on such a wide river, how could they ensure no one would see them? There was no fog on the river, and they weren’t gods who could perform illusions.
They hadn’t even reached Feihe Mountain yet, and who knew what kind of “big move” awaited them there!
So the two of them decided to disguise themselves and take a boat.
The smuggling of goods by Qi’s military stationed here wasn’t a secret. It was also a sign of the court’s weakening authority—unafraid of being accused of treason, they must have had something to rely on. That reliance was, of course, the military power they held, and from deputy generals to minor commanders, none were particularly loyal to the court.
Emperor Yongchen of Qi had inherited a genuine mess, outwardly glamorous but internally in shambles.
It was like a house with its beams hollowed out by termites, barely standing but ready to collapse at the slightest disturbance.
The Emperor’s health was even worse, and how long he could live was unknown. His brothers were all incompetent, except for the second prince, who had some potential, but even he was far from capable of ruling on his own, let alone becoming emperor. He’d need at least five to ten years of experience and hardening, but the Emperor couldn’t wait that long.
It was no wonder Ayanpuka was so confident—the tide of the world was in his favor, giving him every advantage.
Mo Li felt troubled just thinking about it.
Trouble or not, they still had to move forward, step by step.
Feihe Mountain had to be reached, and Ayanpuka had to be dealt with.
As for the boat fare to cross the river and the boarding point, all it took was a little inquiry to find out, not much trouble at all.
Disguises were necessary. With the lack of communication between north and south, once they crossed the river, anyone trying to trace their origins would only find that they had crossed. If they found out about their river crossing, they’d assume they had some “background.” Casual investigators wouldn’t dig deeper, and even those who did would be fooled by the disguise.
Especially for Mo Li and Meng Qi, they didn’t even need to use full disguises—just changing their apparent ages would suffice.
Meng Qi even suggested that Mo Li disguise himself as a middle-aged scholar traveling with a four-year-old child.
The disguise was flawless. After all, no matter how skilled someone was at disguise, no one could shrink themselves to the size of a small child—not even bone-shrinking techniques could do that.
Unfortunately… Mo Li refused.
Holding a chubby child would be less convenient than carrying a sand rat. A sand rat could fit inside a bamboo cup, but could a chubby child?
The boat fare was charged per head—whether it was a baby in arms or an elderly person hobbling along with missing teeth and a lisp, it was all five hundred coins. Transforming into a sand rat would save money. After some thought, Meng Qi did not agree, as it was still hard to say what kind of network Ayanpuka had in Jiangnan. The Chu Dynasty had only fallen seventeen years ago, and Meng Qi had resigned from office twenty-six years ago. Although not many people would remember what Master Meng had looked like, they might just run into someone who did.
Meng Qi “feared” that someone might remind Mo Li of his age, and if someone else got the idea to sketch out the appearance of “Master Meng,” it would be even more troublesome. So he decided to solve the hidden danger right then and there, using his silver tongue to persuade the doctor to “grow old” with him.
That’s right, without going through decades of ups and downs, they could “grow old together” in the blink of an eye.
Mo Li: “…”
Mo Li actually knew what he would look like when he aged. Back when he thought he was a daemon, who wouldn’t have been curious? At the age of nine, he had hidden in Mr. Qin’s bedroom, and while Qin Lu was out visiting patients, he looked into the mirror and transformed from a spirited young man to an elegant youth, then to a middle-aged scholar who had seen the world, and finally into an old man with a gray beard and wrinkles.
Not only had he transformed, but he had also planned what clothes to wear at each age.
Qin Lu was a ready-made role model, and Mo Li unconsciously imitated his teacher. He thought that aging to resemble Qin Lu was the most appropriate.
This made Mo Li look more like a recluse than the legendary Master Meng.
Meng Qi, on the other hand, even though he had donned the robe of an old scholar and carried a worn book bag, had none of the air of poverty or decline. When he first met Mo Li in Pingzhou, his long time away from the world gave him an otherworldly aura. But as more old faces and events resurfaced, and under Mo Li’s influence, Meng Qi was no longer burdened by unresolved hatred and guilt. His demeanor now carried a certain decisive ruthlessness.
Even though the boatman had never seen many important figures, he could sense that Meng Qi was no ordinary person.
However, those sneaking onto the ferry heading south were unlikely to be loyal to the northern court, so the boatman spoke even more freely.
The water slapped against the sides of the boat, and the small vessel began to sway from side to side. Even with the combined efforts of the three boatmen, the rocking was still significant.
An old woman with a child huddled in the cabin, trembling and muttering Amitabha and Guanyin Bodhisattva over and over.
An itinerant merchant, annoyed by the noise, moved slightly away. He cast a furtive glance at Mo Li standing at the bow, secretly surprised. For safety reasons, the soldiers stationed on both sides of the river often used small fishing boats like this one, capable of carrying no more than ten people, for smuggling goods. If it were a larger ship, who knew if there were explosives hidden on board, or if it was part of a covert operation.
Though they said the crossing took place every three days, the boat was too small—windy days were out, and heavy rains made it impossible.
In a whole year, the days suitable for crossing the river were probably just a few dozen.
So, even though a solar eclipse had occurred earlier today, the weather at night was good, and not crossing the river would have been a loss.
However, what the boatman and the merchant considered “good weather” was not the same for everyone else.
It was the height of the summer flood season, when the river was at its fullest and most turbulent. No matter how skillfully the boat was rowed, in the pitch-dark night with the constant rocking, even those with a bit of courage were pale with fright, chanting prayers to gods and immortals like the old woman.
But those two elderly men stood firmly at the bow, showing no fear at all.
“I had heard before that the people in the south were not necessarily better off than those in the Qi Dynasty. I thought it was because the three kings of the fallen Chu state were fighting over the claim to legitimacy, causing the common people to suffer exploitation. But I didn’t expect…”
Even those with some family wealth found themselves caught up in disaster without warning.
Emperors, generals, and commoners alike—why was living so difficult?
No wonder the teacher retired to the mountains. Even a divine physician couldn’t cure the illness of the world. Having witnessed the fall of the Chu Dynasty, he knew well that loyal ministers, famous generals, and a prosperous age could not save the people.
If not for meeting Meng Qi, Mo Li thought he might have given up medicine to pursue literature, seeking out like-minded individuals and taking advantage of the chaos to achieve something great and transformative. But that path had already been walked by Meng Qi. It wasn’t that all those who became kings and emperors were like Li Yuanze, who killed the rabbit and then cooked the hound, or who abandoned the archer once the birds were gone. It was simply that human nature was fickle, and good policies for the country and the people were difficult to implement.
The master of the capital city had changed many times. Generations of loyal ministers and famous officials were countless. National policies changed repeatedly. The people’s food, clothing, and shelter were much better than in ancient times when they ate raw meat and drank blood. Yet the fact that life was as fragile as grass had not changed in thousands of years.
“In this world, living depends entirely on luck,” Mo Li muttered to himself.
The people of the Qi Dynasty were displaced, and it could be attributed to the instability of the bureaucracy, the disunity between the top and bottom, natural disasters, and human calamities that forced them into this situation.
But what happened in the south clearly demonstrated that even in peaceful times, when a family did not worry about food and clothing, survival still depended on luck.
Meng Qi pressed his hand on Mo Li’s shoulder. To outsiders, it appeared to be a silent exchange between old friends.
Whether it was the wind and waves ahead or the unknown challenges, they would face it together.
The itinerant merchant quietly pulled his head back, his gaze flickering, as if calculating something or hiding something in his heart. Every now and then, he would fidget uneasily in his seat.
The old woman kept her eyes closed, praying fervently for divine protection. The boatmen were outside, rowing hard. The merchant’s unusual behavior was noticed only by the old woman’s frail grandson.
The child was still young, possibly not even able to speak clearly yet. He was at the age where he was curious about everything around him, so when he stared at the itinerant merchant, it wasn’t because he found the man’s behavior suspicious, but simply out of curiosity.
The child didn’t know how to conceal his thoughts, so the itinerant merchant noticed immediately and glared fiercely at the boy.
“Wah—”
The sudden cry startled everyone on the boat.
Chang, the boatman, shouted impatiently, “What’s going on? Making the kid cry now? Do you want to cross the river or not? If we’re spotted, none of us will keep our heads!”
Mo Li was puzzled. When they boarded, he had thought the child seemed sensible and wouldn’t cry for no reason. There was no one else in the cabin, so could something have happened?
He stepped into the cabin and saw the old woman trembling as she tried to comfort the child. She was pleading with the boatman, “The wind and waves are just too strong. Even I’m scared half to death, how could the child not be frightened?”
Mo Li saw the child gripping the old woman’s sleeve tightly, burying his head in her chest. He had seen earlier that the child was very close to the old woman, and they seemed to be genuine grandmother and grandchild. A grandmother wouldn’t scare her grandchild, and the cabin was cramped and unlit, so they couldn’t see outside. The child didn’t understand the danger and wouldn’t fear the boat capsizing like an adult. In fact, he might even find the rocking fun.
With this in mind, Mo Li’s gaze naturally shifted to the itinerant merchant.
The man shrank his neck, putting on a sheepish smile, and distanced himself from the grandmother and child, showing a hint of disdain.
Mo Li had his suspicions. He had overheard the earlier conversation between the merchant and the boatman, but no one has eyes in the back of their head. He hadn’t seen the malice in the merchant’s eyes or his silent suggestion to the boatman about killing and robbing. Mo Li merely assumed the merchant was accustomed to seeing boatmen extorting money from people crossing the river.
But now, thinking back…
Mo Li showed no emotion on his face. It was as if he had simply come to check on the commotion, and after seeing nothing was amiss, he left the cabin again.
To be fair, the smell in the cabin wasn’t pleasant. It was natural that a “scholar” wouldn’t want to stay inside.
The itinerant merchant sighed in relief and instinctively patted his chest.
Mo Li slowly walked over to Meng Qi and transmitted his voice, “That man seems suspicious.”
Despite his old appearance, his movements and speech were deliberately slowed to match his elderly guise. Otherwise, a white-haired elder walking briskly like a young man would look strange.
“Cough.” Meng Qi, clearly more skilled at playing the role of an old man than Mo Li, let out two proper coughs as the cold river breeze blew past.
Mo Li: “…”
He had let his guard down, just like that time he pretended to shiver from the cold but forgot to make his teeth chatter.
“Brother Qixing, you should wear more layers.”
“You’re right, Brother Shizhi. I’m not as strong as I used to be.”
Meng Qi suddenly found it amusing to address Mo Li by his courtesy name. According to societal norms, adults should address each other by their courtesy names, but Meng Qi had spent the first half of his life being called this by friends and by Li Yuanze. Over time, he had developed an instinctive aversion to hearing his own courtesy name. Plus, he had deliberately grown closer to Mo Li, calling him “Doctor Mo” out loud, though he thought of him as “Ah Li” in his heart. Their relationship resembled that of martial artists, who generally did not use courtesy names, so the habit carried over.
Meng Qi’s courtesy name was Qixing, given to him by Duke Wei, Yin Qingheng.
It came from the *Book of Songs*, “Weapons and banners rise, the army sets forth.”
The character “Qi” could refer to a weapon similar to an axe. Yin Qingheng had chosen “Qixing” over “Wuyang,” as a courtesy name should reflect a person’s virtues. While the former praised martial achievements, the latter implied unity and cooperation in advancing together.
This was at a time when alliances were being made and plans for rebellion were just beginning, with everything still in its early stages…
Meng Qi rubbed his forehead, unwilling to think further, and transmitted his voice, “I noticed he’s hiding something. A petty man’s nature, though—it may have nothing to do with the two of us.”
The itinerant merchant was likely planning something shady, and upon seeing the extraordinary bearing of Meng Qi and Mo Li, he immediately grew wary and defensive.
“Indeed. Just make sure he doesn’t harm the grandmother and child,” Mo Li said lightly.
He wasn’t particularly interested in what the itinerant merchant intended to do. Everyone had secrets, and each believed their own actions were significant. As long as it didn’t harm others, no one had the right to interfere. But since this man had revealed such malice and even hinted to the boatman about murder and robbery to ease his own anxiety, Mo Li couldn’t let him get away with it. He would make sure the man’s plans came to nothing, leaving him with nothing but regret.
Meng Qi didn’t pay much attention to the merchant either. He and Mo Li stood by the side of the boat, chatting elegantly about ancient tales and historical anecdotes, embodying a refined and scholarly demeanor.
Alas, they were old now.
The boatman nearby listened intently, intrigued, and his mind began to speculate about the origins of the two men.
After another two quarters of an hour, the small boat slowly approached the shore. As usual, they navigated through the reed marshes, using the tall grass for cover.
At the boatman’s signal, the old woman hurriedly grabbed her grandson, carrying a bundle, and shakily disembarked.
The itinerant merchant followed behind them, and on the riverbank, two men dressed similarly to him were sitting on three wooden crates. Upon seeing the boat arrive, they immediately opened the crates for the boatman to inspect.
The boatman lit a lamp to check the goods. Though Meng Qi hadn’t walked far after disembarking, he caught a glimpse despite their efforts to block the light.
“It’s silk and tea,” Meng Qi said.
Mo Li nodded in acknowledgment and continued to walk slowly.
Both he and Meng Qi were now elderly men, and couldn’t walk fast. The old woman, dragging her grandchild, moved even more slowly.
For reasons unknown, the itinerant merchant also dawdled, following behind them at a slow pace.
After walking about three miles, a dilapidated inn came into view.
It was probably a rest stop for travelers and merchants when river traffic was more accessible. The inn was quite large, with two stories and a courtyard, capable of accommodating fifty people. But with the split between the north and south, business had fallen apart, leaving the inn in ruins.
A middle-aged woman leaned against the inn’s door. Her face appeared especially pale under the dim light of the lantern. When she saw figures approaching from the riverbank, her eyes lit up, and she quickly greeted them with a smile.
“Hot tea, hot water, hot soup, hot noodles… we have it all! This is the only inn within ten miles. If you’re headed south, my prices are fair. Pay first, then stay—no price gouging… Oh, isn’t this Master Huang Liu? You’re out on business today, eh? How fortunate, I’ve still got a private room available for you.”
The itinerant merchant, Huang Liu, grinned as he walked over and gave her wrist a squeeze. The innkeeper’s wife chuckled and deftly pulled away.
“Oh, Mistress Tao, always teasing. The private room? It’s just that the roof doesn’t leak and the floorboards aren’t cracked, nothing more.”
“Ha! Look at you, Master Huang, times are hard and business is tough. I’m just keeping the family inn going,” she replied with a bright smile.
The old woman hesitated, clutching her grandson. The night was dark, and if they continued walking, they might encounter bandits. But this remote area also raised concerns about the inn being a trap.
After some hesitation, the old woman saw the merchant enter the inn, followed by Meng Qi and Mo Li, and finally made up her mind. She bit her lip, tightened her hold on her grandson, and entered the shabby inn as well.
Despite its rundown appearance, the inn’s furnishings weren’t bad. The counter and chairs were old, with most of the paint chipped away, but all the necessary items were there.
Behind the counter hung a row of wooden signs, clearly listing the prices for steamed buns, noodles, hot water, and wine.
It seemed the inn didn’t offer much else.
“Rooms are ten copper coins a day. There’s no bedding inside, but the weather’s warm, so it shouldn’t matter. There’s a bed and shelter from the wind, better than walking in the dark. Can’t ask for more,” the innkeeper said with a grin. Her price wasn’t exorbitant, but it wasn’t cheap either. If the rooms were truly bare except for a wooden plank bed, it was only marginally better than a woodshed.
The itinerant merchant ordered a bowl of hot soup noodles, hot water, and filtered hot wine.
The inn’s servant, a tall man with a scarred face, looked fierce.
The old woman didn’t dare to look around. She tightened her grip on her grandson and followed behind Meng Qi and Mo Li, paid for her room, and headed toward the guest rooms.
The servant, holding an oil lamp, led the way. To Mo Li’s surprise, though the man didn’t look trustworthy, he was very attentive. Seeing that the group was made up of elderly people and a small child, he raised the lamp higher to avoid two small pits in the ground and pointed to two adjacent doors without saying a word.
“He’s a trained martial artist,” Meng Qi said.
“An external martial art,” Mo Li saw more clearly.
The innkeeper’s wife wasn’t ordinary either.
In the middle of nowhere, with a burly servant and a middle-aged innkeeper… it was easy to suspect either a den of thieves or a haunt of monsters.
Of course, there were no monsters, and as for a black inn—
Mo Li didn’t smell any blood. Not in the inn, not on the servant.
It was simply a decaying, moldy, run-down inn.
The soundproofing was poor. Even with the door shut, they could still hear the itinerant merchant drinking and flirting with the innkeeper.
As promised, the room contained nothing but a wooden plank bed. There was nowhere to sit except the floor.
But it was at least clean.
Listening to the merchant’s words from outside, Mo Li pondered aloud, “This place seems to be a regular stop for those who often cross the river.”
When the Qi Dynasty’s army and the King of Jing’s forces conducted their private trade, the two sides likely never met. They left the itinerant merchants to handle the transactions. These merchants had connections to the military and could profit from it, but they also had to carefully curry favor with the boatmen. Take this man named Huang, for example—around the innkeeper’s wife, his words were slick and flattering, constantly boasting about himself.
Huang Liu kept drinking, unknowingly downing his wine until the second watch of the night.
“… Tomorrow, when I make a big score, I’ll be done with this business. Mistress Tao, if you fancy me… we’ll buy a few acres of land in the countryside, set up a little shop, and live a peaceful life.”
“Oh, I’m flattered by your offer, Master Huang. Come, let’s have another drink.” The innkeeper’s wife smiled but didn’t ask what he meant by “big score.”
He spoke as if some grand deal was about to take place, otherwise, he would’ve said “save enough” rather than “make a big score.”
Lying on the wooden plank bed, Mo Li furrowed his brow.
Next to him, Meng Qi reached over, brushing a hand across his forehead with a laugh. “The doctor’s wrinkles are deeper than mine. How do you look younger than me? It’s not fair!”
“The Grandmaster is old. Shouldn’t your eyes be failing? How can you even see wrinkles?” Mo Li corrected him.
“Doctor, you’re mistaken. I felt them.”
“…”
The two were in the midst of playfully sparring, exchanging light slaps, when suddenly they both paused.
There was movement on the roof above them.
Despite the floor between them, Meng Qi heard it clearly—a muffled voice asked, “Was the item really brought here?”
“Those itinerant merchants always stop at this inn. The item can’t be hidden in the goods, so it must be traded here.”
“Who’s the scoundrel they’re supposed to meet?”
“That… I don’t know. All we know is that today was the appointed day. Maybe the contact’s already left and just stashed the item in the inn. The innkeeper and her servant might know more. Should we go in and search?”
“No need! A great man doesn’t bother with trifles. Better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one escape. Set fire to the place!”
