Han Ji

Chapter 156 Liu Yong's Horse Appearance

"All I know is that I'll escort you to Mianzhu to meet a big shot; I know nothing else." Qian Zhao stood up. "Once you get there, act according to the situation. In case... in case things fail, survival is the priority. We've left someone to meet you at the Micang intersection."

Jian Yong smiled, but his smile was tinged with bitterness.

"Zijing, what will happen to the account books if I don't come back?"

Qian Zhao was taken aback.

"The third cabinet on the left, the bottom shelf, wrapped in oilcloth," Jian Yong continued, "contains the county treasury's bottom ledger, copies of the land registers, and... some things I've kept in private. If I'm gone, remember to take them out and give them to my elder brother."

Qian Zhao's eyes suddenly felt hot.

He raised his hand and patted Jian Yong's shoulder heavily.

"Don't say such discouraging things." His voice was a little hoarse. "You have to come back. We still need to drink together and watch your son get married."

Jian Yong didn't reply, he just smiled.

The sound of a night watchman's drum came from outside the window.

It's past midnight.

The first day of the Lunar New Year.

A festive atmosphere filled the city of Nanzheng. Every household put up peach wood charms, and the military camps were given leave. Except for those on duty, everyone was given wine and meat and gathered in the barracks to eat, drink, and make noise.

Liu Bei did not rest.

He was in the central command tent, watching Jian Yong's final rehearsal.

Jian Yong changed his clothes, wearing a slightly worn silk robe with a sheepskin vest over it, and a warm hat with the brim pulled down to cover half his face. He held the copper talisman in his hand, rubbing it repeatedly.

"Liu Yong," Liu Bei called him.

Jian Yong looked up: "Yes."

"You are Liu Jun's cousin, a native of Jiangling in Jingzhou, and you've been helping Liu Jun manage his business for many years. This time, you're here on Liu Jun's urgent orders to deliver money and a message," Liu Bei said calmly. "Why didn't Liu Jun come in person?"

"Liu Jun is in Luoyang inquiring about the change of ruler in Yizhou and cannot leave," Jian Yong replied smoothly.

If Ma Xiang asks, "Why did you start the uprising ahead of schedule?"

"The imperial court has already become suspicious of Yizhou and fears that something might happen there. Liu Jun is determined to strike first and take advantage of Xi Jian's unpreparedness to kill him in one fell swoop."

"Does Ma Xiang suspect your identity?"

"The jade pendant is the proof, the bronze talisman is the evidence, and the secret code is the signal." Jian Yong took out the pair of jade pendants from his bosom and pointed to the bronze talisman.

Liu Bei remained silent for a moment, then patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry to have troubled you."

"Brother, what are you saying?" Jian Yong lowered his sleeves. "It's what I should do."

Zhang Fei's booming voice rang out from outside the tent: "Brother! The wine's warmed up, come out and have a couple of bowls!"

Liu Bei responded and said to Jian Yong, "Go ahead, get some rest tonight. We'll set off early on the third day."

Jian Yong bowed and withdrew.

Stepping outside the tent, a gust of cold wind made him shiver. From the distant barracks came the sounds of drinking games and laughter, and the flickering torchlight danced in the snow. He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked back to his own barracks.

They met Guan Yu on the road.

Guan Yu, wearing a cloak, was patrolling the camp. He stopped when he saw him coming.

"Constitutional peace".

"Yun Chang".

The two men stared at each other. Guan Yu's phoenix eyes reflected the firelight, deep and unfathomable.

"This journey is fraught with danger," Guan Yu said. "Take care."

"I will."

Guan Yu took out a small leather pouch from his bosom and handed it over.

"There are medicine and antidote pills inside. I prepared them for you. Take them with you."

Jian Yong took it; the skin was still warm from his body.

Thanks.

Guan Yu didn't say anything more, patted him on the shoulder, and left.

Jian Yong gripped the leather bag tightly and continued walking forward.

Back in the barracks, the room was deserted. His luggage was already packed: a bundle containing two sets of clothes and some dry rations.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly for a while.

Then he took a small wooden box from under his pillow and opened it. Inside was a lock of hair tied with a red string; it belonged to his mother. The old lady had passed away last winter, and before she left, she cut off this lock of hair for him, saying, "Yong'er, take this with you, and your mother will protect you."

Jian Yong picked up his hair and pressed it against his chest.

Close your eyes.

Mother, please bless your son.

It was the third day of the Lunar New Year, and it was still dark.

The west gate of Nanzheng quietly opened a crack. Three carriages drove out, their wheels covered with thick cloth, making a dull sound as they rolled over the snow. Each carriage was driven by two horses, and the drivers were all wrapped up, with only their eyes showing.

Jian Yong sat in the middle carriage, opposite Zhang Wu, Chen Da, and Zhao Er. Both men were in their thirties, with ordinary appearances, wearing work clothes and short knives at their waists.

The carriage was crowded, with people and a few boxes inside. At the bottom were gold ingots, and on top were bags of salt—real salt, official salt from Hanzhong, with salt permits, so they weren't afraid of inspections.

The carriage left the city, got onto the official road, and headed southwest.

Qian Zhao stood on the city wall, watching the convoy gradually disappear into the distance, becoming three black dots in the snow.

He stood there for a long time, until the black dot completely disappeared into the horizon.

Then he turned and left the city.

Liu Bei was waiting for him at the foot of the city wall.

"Gone?"

"I'm gone."

Liu Bei nodded and looked southwest.

The sky was beginning to lighten, but the thick clouds prevented the sun from rising.

"Brother," Qian Zhao whispered, "can constitutional peace be achieved?"

"Yes," Liu Bei said. "He must be able to."

The wind rose, whipping up the snow accumulated on the city tower, which fell in a flurry, like paper money being sent off.

Liu Bei turned around and walked towards the military camp.

My steps were steady, but my heart was heavy.

This move has been made.

Whether it's eating the child or being eaten, it all depends on how the fire in Mianzhu burns.

The tenth day of the first lunar month, Mianzhu.

Seventy percent of the snow had melted, revealing dark yellow mud mixed with remnants of snow on the ground, making a squelching sound when stepped on. The salt wells outside the city were still emitting steam, but half the number of workers were gone. With the Lunar New Year just past, many salt workers had gone home to celebrate, carrying their year's savings.

Inside the dilapidated temple in the south of the city, about twenty people had gathered.

The temple was dedicated to the local salt god. The clay sculpture had long since collapsed, revealing the straw and wooden frame underneath. The altar had been moved to one side, and a layer of dry grass was spread on the ground. People sat or squatted around a fire pit in the center. The fire pit burned waste residue from the salt wells; the smoke was thick and choking, but it was warm.

Ma Xiang sat facing north of the fire pit, with his back against half of a clay statue.

He was in his early forties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and a scar on his left cheek from a salt pitchfork incident years ago when he was fighting with others over a well. He wore a tattered leather coat, the cuffs worn smooth and shiny, revealing the black cotton wadding underneath.

The firelight illuminated half of his face, casting an uncertain glow.

He reached into the hearth and pulled out a ceramic bowl filled with cheap, murky, yellowish wine. He took a sip, winced at the spiciness, but swallowed it.

"Brothers," he looked around, "how much of the money that Master Liu gave us in the first two times is left?"

In the corner, an old salt worker who was in charge of the accounts opened the ledger, squinted at it, and said, "The money... around 300,000. The knives and bows are hidden in the cave in the back mountain; they haven't been touched."

Ma Xiang nodded.

Three hundred thousand coins is a lot; it's enough to feed this group for half a year.

But he still felt uneasy.

Liu Jun first came last July, bringing 500,000 coins and ten knives. The second time was in September, when he brought another 300,000 coins and twenty bows. He claimed it was to support a charitable cause, but Ma Xiang wasn't stupid; there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Liu Jun wanted him to make a big splash in Yizhou, the bigger the better. Liu Jun was essentially making an investment, and the two agreed to share the spoils after the deal was done.