Hot flashes

The silver coin was eventually sold to a pawnshop in the east of Lingshui County. The pawnshop owner clearly remembered that the boy who came to pawn the coin was a seven or eight-year-old boy, dressed in rags, with frostbite on his hands and feet. He exchanged it for forty copper coins, bought grain and medicine for his injuries, and had a few coins left to buy candy.

"That child," the shopkeeper recalled, "said he was running errands for an injured older brother."

Chen Shen's men followed this lead and found Acao in a dilapidated temple deep in the bamboo forest.

The boy was alert; he tried to run as soon as he saw a stranger approaching from afar. But the guards were faster, silently flanking him and blocking him at the temple entrance.

Ah Cao was so frightened that her face turned pale. She clutched the few pieces of malt candy she hadn't finished eating in her arms tightly, trembling all over, but she stubbornly refused to cry.

Chen Shen went in person. He squatted down and placed a small piece of silver, similar in color to the silver clasp, at A Cao's feet, speaking softly: "That injured older brother is my master. Where is he? We've come to find him, we're not bad people."

Ah Cao stared at the silver, then at Chen Shen's face. He remained silent for a long time, so long that Chen Shen thought the boy wouldn't speak again, before he heard him whisper, "He's gone. He went south."

"Is he... alright?"

Ah Cao pursed her dry, chapped lips: "His shoulder was dislocated, but he put it back in himself. He also had a head injury, a fever, and was limping. He gave me his silver buckle, asking me to buy him medicine and food, and he even shared half of his dried meat with me..."

He paused, his voice barely audible: "He said... he said you would come looking for him."

Chen Shen brought A Cao back to the main camp.

Xiao Jue met A Cao at 9 PM that night.

The tent was brightly lit by candlelight. He had just finished making arrangements for tomorrow's attack on the north of the southern capital, and his writing brush was still resting on the unfolded map.

The arrow wound in his shoulder was so painful that he could barely lift his left arm. When he heard Chen Shenping report that "the informant has been found," he raised his hand and waved everyone in the tent away.

When Ah Cao was brought in, she was practically rooted to the spot by those two gazes.

That was the most terrifying person he had ever met in his life.

He was handsome, even good-looking, but his eyes... his eyes were so dark and dull that they had no light at all, like the old well at the village entrance that had been dry for more than ten years in the twelfth lunar month, unfathomable, and looking into them only made one feel a chilling cold.

He was dressed in dark casual clothes, with blood seeping through the bandages on his shoulders. His face was terribly pale, but that paleness made him look like a knife that had been tempered with ice, chilling to the bone.

Ah Cao's legs went weak, and she almost knelt down.

"Don't be afraid," the man said.

His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken properly for days. He sat behind his desk, his back ramrod straight, but when those two words were squeezed out of his throat, there was a barely perceptible break in the final syllable.

Ah Cao dared not move.

Xiao Jue looked at him.

"You saw him," Xiao Jue said.

Ah Cao nodded, her teeth chattering slightly.

"He..." Xiao Jue paused. The name rolled on his tongue three times, but he ultimately swallowed it back. "That person, how is he?"

Ah Cao nodded again, then shook her head.

"He...he's not well." The boy's voice was thin, as if it would dissipate in the wind. "His shoulder was dislocated, but he put it back in himself. I saw that his face was pale, and he was covered in sweat, but he didn't cry out. The wound on his head was soaked in water, and it swelled up into a huge bump. He's had a fever, and he has to hold onto a tree to walk, and he has to rest after a few steps..."

Xiao Jue remained silent.

His right hand rested on the edge of the table, his knuckles pressing against the cold, hard wood. Ah Cao couldn't see the changes in his expression, but she could see those slender fingers tightening, little by little.

The joints turned bluish-white.

"Where did he go?" Xiao Jue asked.

"South," A-Cao said. "He said he was going to Nandu. I asked him where that was, and he said it was very far and would take many days to get there."

I told him there were soldiers checking people at the fork in the road, and he said he understood and would be careful. It was getting dark when he left…

The boy's voice choked with emotion: "He gave me the silver clasp, which was sewn into my collar close to my skin. He told me to buy medicine and food, and he even shared half of his dried meat with me..."

Xiao Jue paused for a moment.

Ah Cao couldn't see it. He had his head down and could only see the man's hand on the table, his knuckles as white as the peeling plaster from a temple wall.

Those hands had just been holding a pen, but the pen had broken off at some point, the broken end piercing into the palms, and blood slowly trickled down between the fingers, dripping onto the unfolded map and spreading into a small patch of dark red.

But he doesn't seem to feel it.

"What else did he say?" Xiao Jue asked.

The voice remained steady, but Ah Cao suddenly felt that it wasn't calmness; it was as if something was being pressed down too tightly and too deeply, so deep that it was about to tear her apart.

"He said..." Ah Cao tried hard to recall, "He said you would come looking for him. He told me that if I saw you, I should tell you that he was fine and not to worry. He also said that he would definitely come to Nandu."

He paused, then added in a low voice, "He said he was waiting for someone."

Xiao Jue closed his eyes.

The shell finally cracked open.

Ah Cao timidly looked up.

He saw the person open their eyes.

The man looked at him.

"Thank you," he said.

The voice was low and deep, as if the two words were being forcibly carved out from the depths of the chest.

Ah Cao was stunned.

He didn't know why this seemingly terrifying person would thank him.

He was just a beggar with no parents, waiting to die in a dilapidated temple. He only accepted a silver coin, ran an errand, and bought some food and medicine for the injured older brother.

He didn't do anything remarkable.

But the man spoke with such solemnity, as if he had done something of paramount importance.

The tent remained silent for a long time. So long that Ah Cao thought the man wouldn't speak again, until she heard him say, "Chen Shen."

Chen Shen entered silently, bowing his head and awaiting orders.

"Take him away. Make sure he's settled in properly." Xiao Jue paused, "Give him whatever he wants."

Chen Shen agreed, took A Cao's hand, and led him out of the tent. A Cao glanced back and saw that the man was looking down at the bloodstained map on the table, his profile half-lit and half-shadowed in the candlelight.

His hand was still clutching the broken pen, and blood was still flowing down.

But he doesn't seem to feel it at all.

The curtains fell.

Xiao Jue sat there alone. The lamplight cast his shadow on the tent wall, solitary and sharp like a drawn sword, yet no one to catch it.

He looked down at his palm. The silver clasp, along with A-Cao's narration, lay quietly in his hand.

The silver clasp was small and of ordinary quality, with simple cloud patterns engraved on its surface—it was the one he had sewn into Zhou Heng's collar. When traveling, money is inconspicuous, but it can be exchanged for emergency funds if necessary.

He thought he had thought things through thoroughly enough.

But he still lost him.

Xiao Jue slowly closed his fingers. The sharp pain from the silver clasp digging into the wound in his palm finally brought him back to a sliver of clarity from his numb state.

He must have walked very slowly, dragging his injured body and running a fever, needing to rest after every few steps. He must have been very cold, in a lot of pain, and very scared.