Chapter 5

Four days passed, and Zhou Shixiang was still lingering in the mountainous region of western Guangdong. During that time he lost his way several times, which made him extremely anxious.

In his previous life, when he went out, railways, expressways, national highways, and provincial roads stretched in all directions, with large signboards at every intersection.

He could go wherever he wanted, and as long as he could read, he would never get lost, much less find himself with no road to take. But in this era, transportation in Guangdong was terribly backward.

Apart from the official roads connecting prefectures and counties, the remaining roads could be counted on one's fingers, and most were little paths trodden out by villagers or mountain folk themselves.

The locals knew these paths, but outsiders could not walk them, especially in the mountains, where it was very hard to find one's way out without a guide.

As for the official roads, Zhou Shixiang did not dare take them. The year before, Li Dingguo had led his troops to attack Guangzhou.

The Qing army had not dared meet him in battle and had abandoned all the prefectures and counties of western Guangdong, holding only Guangzhou.

After Li Dingguo was defeated at Xinhui and forced to withdraw, the Qing army seized the opportunity to reoccupy most of the prefectures and counties of western Guangdong.

Now the official roads heading west were almost entirely controlled by the Qing army, and travelers were subjected to extremely strict inspections.

Forcing five passes and slaying six generals was a story that existed only in novels, and Zhou Shixiang was no Lord Guan the Second. He did not dare swagger openly along the official roads.

For one thing, the big Mongolian blue horse beneath him would make him a target for the Qing army. A single casual question—"Where did you get that horse?"—would leave him with no defense and expose him on the spot.

Taking the small paths was difficult, but it was safe. Yet safe as it was, Zhou Shixiang could not read the way. He had wandered the mountains for two or three days without knowing where he was. If someone could give him a map at that moment, he would gladly have taken a blade in the ribs for them.

It was not that Zhou Shixiang did not want to find a local to ask for directions, but for dozens of li around there was no sign of human habitation. Along the way he had passed a few village cottages, but the villages had long been abandoned.

There was nothing but wild grass upon wild grass, and not a single person in sight. Presumably the villagers had either been killed by soldiers or had fled from them.

Ever since the Qing army had conquered Guangdong, the people of the province had suffered grievously. The provincial capital, Guangzhou, had been put to the sword by the Qing army, and massacres elsewhere were too numerous to count.

Compared with those places, the tragedy at Xinhui did not seem so very tragic after all.

The western Guangdong region in particular had seen Ming and Qing troops pass through time and again, each side seizing and holding it in turn. The land had long been ruined, and with soldiers and bandits running rampant, how many common folk could still live peacefully in their native homes?

Unable to find a guide, Zhou Shixiang had no choice but to grope his way alone. The skills he had learned as a cavalryman in his previous life proved quite useful. At the very least, he did not go in the wrong direction, nor did he starve, though he ate quite a few snakes, rats, insects, and ants.

Seeing that the sun was about to set, Zhou Shixiang wanted to find a place to rest. Out in the desolate wilds, the safety factor at night was truly not high, and he could not guarantee that the mountains of Guangdong in this era held no tigers or wolves.

In the end, his luck was not bad. As the sun sank in the west, Zhou Shixiang found a shack where he could put up for the night.

The shack was built amid a grove of bamboo on the mountainside. Seen from afar, it looked like the secluded dwelling of some otherworldly recluse, but up close, it was no recluse's retreat—merely a resting spot for mountain folk who came up to cut firewood.

The shack was extremely crude: a frame of bamboo with grass spread on top and branches propped around the sides for shelter. It could not have been more rudimentary.

Inside there was nothing at all, only a rusted iron pot sitting there alone. Judging by the rust on the pot, it had not been used for at least several months.

After looking carefully around, Zhou Shixiang tied the big blue horse beside the shack, gathered some dry grass and spread it inside, and ate a few wild fruits he had picked on the mountain. Then his eyelids grew heavy, and unable to hold out any longer, he collapsed and fell asleep.

It was now the end of the third month, and the temperature in Guangdong was still quite pleasant. The nights were not cold, so Zhou Shixiang felt no chill; otherwise the night would have been hard to endure.

The mountain forest at night was utterly still. Apart from the cries of birds and unknown wild beasts, there was not the slightest sound on the great mountain.

The big blue horse had had a rough time following Zhou Shixiang these past few days. It had eaten nothing but grass, with not a bit of fodder in its belly.

Now it was hungry too, yet it seemed to understand human nature, knowing its current master had no food to give it, and so it lay there without a sound.

Zhou Shixiang had indeed been too tired these past few days. After all he had been through, he was truly exhausted in body and mind. This sleep made him forget everything, and he felt only how comfortable it was.

In his drowsy haze, the big blue horse outside suddenly let out a neigh. The alertness of a former soldier made Zhou Shixiang wake at once, and he instantly realized there was danger.

But before he could spring up from the ground, his body was already pinned down, and the saber he had taken from You Yunlong, which had always lain at his right hand, was kicked aside.

"Who are you people!"

Zhou Shixiang stared in alarm at the men before him holding torches. Some wore a motley assortment of Ming army uniforms, while others were dressed as commoners or hunters. They looked neither soldier nor civilian, and the one thing they had in common was that every one of them held a blade.

The two men pinning Zhou Shixiang down were dressed in short work clothes, their faces fleshy and brutal—at a glance, clearly not good men.

"Heh, this kid's asking who we are, and I haven't even asked who he is yet," said a hunter-clad man with a chuckle, grinning at Zhou Shixiang.

The man pinning Zhou Shixiang's left hand laughed and said, "This kid's tender-skinned and fine-fleshed, looks like a xiucai. Tsk tsk, the Tartars really know how to pick their men."

The man beside him chimed in with a laugh: "The Tartars have really spent some capital this time. That horse outside is a top-grade Mongolian horse. I saw them before when I served at the prince's side. If that horse were sold, it would fetch a good bit of silver."

"Mm, right. Old Ben's band is short of horses. There aren't many Mongolian horses in the army. If they saw this one, who knows how envious they'd get."

At the thought of trading this Tartar spy's horse to the Ming army for silver, all the men grew eager.

As these men talked, Zhou Shixiang paid close attention. They clearly were not Qing soldiers, but they did not seem to be Ming troops either.

Most likely they were bandits. From their tone, they seemed to have contact with the Ming army in Guangxi.

He wanted to explain that he was no spy but was on his way to join the Ming army. Just as he was about to open his mouth, the man among them wearing a hodgepodge of Ming military uniform walked up to him and demanded sternly, "You dog Tartar spy—speak!

What are you doing in these mountains?"

Startled, Zhou Shixiang hastily shook his head. "I'm no Tartar spy. You've mistaken me!"

"Not a spy?" The man gave a cold smile, then suddenly reached behind Zhou Shixiang's head. "Hmph. If you're not a spy, then what's this?"

The man moved too fast. By the time Zhou Shixiang reacted, there was a sharp pain at the back of his head, and the next moment a queue like a rat's tail was tossed down in front of him.

A queue?!

Zhou Shixiang was startled again. Only then did he remember that the original owner of this body had shaved his head, and that in these days, preoccupied with revenge, he had completely forgotten about that money-rat-tail queue so infamous in his previous life.