Chapter 72

Gu Zhao exclaimed, “How did you make it so beautiful?”

The carriage was entirely crafted from red sandalwood; though square in shape, its edges curved gracefully, elegant and refined.

The shaft extended forward, and each wheel had a diameter of one and a half meters, copper nails glinting with light; the carriage body was long and spacious, with a door at the front and carved windows on the sides and rear.

“Why else would it take several days?” Gu Qi muttered to himself, “You’re filming a fantasy short, need interior shots too—you’ve got to make it look good!”

Gu Zhao nodded; he’d merely made up an excuse, saying a classmate entering the short-film industry wanted a replica ancient carriage—simple exterior, but comfortable and durable inside, suitable for long journeys, needing interior shots—and asked him for help.

Then Gu Qi had eagerly taken it all on, promising the client would be satisfied.

Gu Zhao hadn’t expected his own father to care so much.

“The wheels look like wood, but inside they have steel rings for support, and an outer solid rubber tire ensures durability.”

Gu Qi explained, “And these two wheels don’t share a single axle, so the carriage can turn on the spot; it also has shock-absorbing springs, so even on rocky roads, the vibration is minimal—perfect for stable interior filming.”

“And the space you requested,” Gu Qi opened the door and lifted the curtain, “the interior is very spacious, taller than ordinary carriages; two hanging cabinets on either side provide storage.”

“Behind this door is a hidden compartment—like in those ancient detective films where bodies are hidden in carriages; you can see how large it really is.”

Gu Zhao followed Gu Qi’s gesture and saw the carriage floor covered in thick padding; rolling back the padding revealed access to the hidden compartment.

Below the hanging cabinets on both sides were windows; against the rear wall stood a foldable low table, and slightly behind it, a less noticeable cabinet held frequently used items.

“The foldable table can be opened—it easily seats four people on either side, perfect for tea, snacks, even meals,” Gu Qi demonstrated, then asked Gu Zhao, “What do you think?”

Gu Zhao gave a thumbs-up. “Strong!”

Perhaps because it was his first time building a carriage, Gu Qi couldn’t resist adding low-relief carvings on both outer sides—one side featured plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum; the other, flowers, birds, fish, and insects; though simply outlined, they were vividly lifelike.

Gu Zhao nodded; fortunately, his father knew restraint—though this carriage was more beautiful than the ordinary ones in Xiuyue County, it didn’t strike the eye at first glance; only close inspection revealed its extraordinary quality.

Thus, all was ready!

…

“Clip-clop, clip-clop…”

The sound of hooves rang lightly as a carriage one size larger than ordinary ones traveled along the official road toward Wuhe County.

The carriage was large; the horse pulling it looked merely a draft animal, yet it moved without strain—the old man seated outside merely shouted twice and cracked his whip in the air, and the horse broke into a trot, pulling the carriage steadily forward.

“I didn’t know Uncle Yan could drive,” Gu Zhao lifted the curtain and handed Daoist Yan Song a cup of water.

Daoist Yan Song rolled his eyes. “I just said those two words!”

Earlier, when Gu Zhao brought back the carriage and fitted it with the horses bought in Xiuyue County, he’d wondered who to hire to drive it.

Unexpectedly, Daoist Yan Song had volunteered enthusiastically: “I’ll do it! I still remember hauling goods with carriages decades ago—I haven’t touched one since. Let me see if I’ve lost the touch!”

So the driver’s seat naturally went to Daoist Yan Song.

“Those who can should bear more,” Gu Zhao grinned. “After all, our group faces some danger—bringing a commoner along would be inconvenient.”

Daoist Yan Song took the cup, drank, then noticed they were catching up to the group ahead, so he handed the cup back to Gu Zhao.

Gu Zhao returned to the carriage; Xiuniang took the cup and placed it on a shelf, then handed him a small handful of freshly shelled melon seeds.

“Thanks!” Gu Zhao placed the seeds in his palm and ate them one by one. “You should eat too!”

“We already did,” Xiuniang pointed to the trash bin filled with seed shells.

Inside the carriage, the curtains were drawn back, warm sunlight pouring in, bringing deep comfort.

The foldable table was open, holding tea and snacks; Xiuniang and Zhuo Qingyan sat on one side, Gu Zhao on the other, and Bai Ke curled in the corner, lazily yawning.

“Young Master, this carriage is so convenient—I feel we could even sleep here at night,” Xiuniang looked around, delighted.

“We could sleep here—there are blankets and bedding underneath,” Gu Zhao pointed down, teasing her, “How about we sleep at an inn tonight, and you guard the carriage?”

Xiuniang raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Fine!”

Zhuo Qingyan, who had been sitting quietly and coldly, couldn’t help herself at this remark; she tapped Xiuniang’s forehead. “Young Master Gu is just teasing you.”

“I know,” Xiuniang nodded. “But our carriage is so good, filled with so many things—if we leave it, what if someone steals it?”

Xiuniang said seriously, “Better I stay here—the blankets are so soft, and there’s bedding inside. It might even be more comfortable than an inn bed.”

Zhuo Qingyan’s eyes softened slightly as she glanced at Gu Zhao, who had leaned back against a cushion, sprawled on the blanket, and finished off the seeds in his hand. “Don’t worry—I’ll stick a talisman inside. No one will touch our carriage.”

Outside, Daoist Yan Song asked curiously, “What kind of talisman can protect against ordinary people and prevent theft?”

“A Peace Talisman,” Gu Zhao said solemnly. “We can pray to the gods, asking them to keep our carriage safe.”

Daoist Yan Song was speechless; Xiuniang and Zhuo Qingyan both laughed.

At this moment, Daoist Yan Song had driven the carriage alongside the group ahead—a quartet dressed in uniform, carrying swords and spears, clearly guards, escorting another carriage and thus moving slowly.

The two women’s laughter escaped the carriage, drawing the attention of the already wary group; they turned and caught a fleeting glimpse of the women’s faces through the windows.

As the two carriages passed each other, a young but slightly frivolous voice called out, “Wait a moment!”

In the next instant, two guards obeying the order stepped forward to block the carriage.

Daoist Yan Song pulled the reins, squinting at the men before him—and at the young man who had stepped out from the opposite carriage.

Seeing the young man’s intense gaze, Xiuniang frowned slightly and promptly pulled the curtain shut.

But his voice still came through: “Don’t be alarmed—I mean no harm. Where are you headed? Jiangzhou has been unsafe lately; bandits roam the roads. Traveling alone like this is very dangerous!”