Chapter 168: Where the Prophecy Is Determined

Chen Er handled affairs efficiently, and within half a day he had hired a carriage.

The carriage was old, but it had been cleaned; a layer of dry straw was spread inside, and two coarse mats were placed on top.

Du Shanü pulled Yunniang aside and whispered a few instructions: she should first go to Dun Cheng to settle in, the County Magistrate Chen at the Xian Xie is her senior, she could speak freely about any difficulties, and once matters at the Zhoufu were settled, she would return to find her.

Yunniang listened seriously, committing each point to memory; her eye sockets reddened again, but she did not cry, only nodding firmly.

Before boarding the carriage, Yunniang made a trip back to that dilapidated alley east of the city.

Her mother still lay paralyzed in bed; within a few days her husband had died suddenly and her second uncle had turned against her, this woman who had never left her courtyard for half her life had cried her tears dry, leaving only a pair of cloudy eyes staring blankly at the beams.

Yunniang said nothing more, helped her mother up from the bed, dressed her, bundled the few remaining valuables into a pack and slung it over her shoulder, then helped her mother onto the carriage.

She glanced back at the two crooked wooden doors; the doorframe still bore the red couplet her father had written by hand for last New Year, the paper faded to a pale white, the characters still barely legible.

But after taking one look, she lowered the carriage curtain.

The carriage left the city gate and got onto the official road.

The deep autumn wind poured in through the gaps in the carriage curtain, carrying the scent of rice stubble and dry grass from the fields.

Tall and short poplars lined the official road, most of their leaves already fallen; the remaining leaves rustled noisily in the wind, as if uttering meaningless words that could not be held.

Chen Er sat on the carriage shaft driving, humming an off‑key little tune, occasionally peeking back through the curtain to ask, "How are you, elder lady?" and "Miss, would you like to rest a while?"

Yunniang responded in turn, holding her mother who leaned against her shoulder, staring blankly at the receding scenery outside the window.

Because of the illness, the distance that could be covered on horseback in half a day took them two full days.

They passed three relay stations and crossed a low ridge.

On the afternoon of the third day, the carriage finally entered the gate of Dun Cheng.

Dun Cheng was much smaller than Zhoufu and far quieter.

Few people were on the street, moving at a leisurely pace; even the dogs lay dozing under the eaves, too lazy to bark.

Chen Er drove the carriage to the gate of the Xian Xie, jumped down, and knocked on the door ring. Shortly after, a servant in green opened the door, asked their purpose, said, "Please wait, the official is receiving guests," and led them into the Welcoming Hall.

The Welcoming Hall was not large, its furnishings simple: a black‑lacquered long table, a few armchairs, on the table sat a celadon vase holding a few half‑withered chrysanthemums.

On the wall hung a central scroll depicting a landscape; the brushwork was sparse and light, the signature illegible.

Yunniang helped her mother sit in a chair, then stood to one side and surveyed the room.

She felt a little nervous, after all it was her first time entering a government office; although Du Shanü's sister had said there would be an acquaintance to look after her, she was still unfamiliar with the people and the place.

She lowered her gaze to her mother; her mother's complexion was poor, after days of travel and exhaustion compounded by the grief of losing her husband, her temples had sprouted many white hairs and her brows remained furrowed.

Yunniang gripped her mother's hand sympathetically and asked softly, "Mother, are you all right?"

Her mother gave a slight nod, then shook her head, whispering that she wanted to change clothes.

Yunniang glanced at the doorway; the servant who had led them was nowhere to be seen, the corridor was empty, not a soul in sight.

After a moment's hesitation, she herself helped her mother to her feet and walked down the corridor toward the rear courtyard.

The Xian Xie was small, its layout simple; she followed a blue‑stone passageway a short distance and saw a clean room.

She settled her mother in, saying, "Mother, wait here for me when you feel better," then withdrew and leaned against a pillar to wait.

The afternoon sun slanted into the courtyard, casting a warm glow on the blue‑stone tiles.

In the courtyard stood an old osmanthus tree, its flowering season past; a few clusters of withered yellow blossoms remained among the branches, and whenever a breeze blew, it scattered tiny, scentless petals.

Yunniang waited a while, but no one came; she thought to find something to hold the blossoms for a sachet for her mother, and hurrying down the corridor she turned a corner and, without realizing it, entered another courtyard.

The building there was larger than the Welcoming Hall, its door ajar, from within came faint voices.

Yunniang was not one to meddle, but those few words drifted into her ears, and inexplicably they caught her steps.

The voice was a man's, refined and warm, unhurried, like a pot of old wine simmering on a winter brazier; just listening made one feel at ease.

The voice said:

"...... I have seen your talent; you are a rare find. To be merely a petty scout would be a waste. The Wise Lord's side lacks someone like you, and I would gladly keep you in the Xian Xie to serve."

Yunniang thought, this must be County Magistrate Chen.

Du Shanü's sister had said "County Magistrate Chen," and indeed he spoke pleasantly.

She was about to leave when she heard the refined voice continue, speaking more slowly, as if weighing something:

"However, I have some doubts about your identity based on this public document."

"The document is genuine, the seal and format are correct, but you claim to be from Jiaozhou yet cannot speak the local dialect."

The voice paused, then went on:

"Moreover, the age on this public document…… is forty‑seven."

"Forgive my poor eyesight, but you certainly do not look like a forty‑seven‑year‑old."

Yunniang's steps, about to leave, were nailed to the ground——

Forty‑seven.

Again forty‑seven.

Her head buzzed, as if an invisible needle had pricked her heart.

A few days earlier that smiling, baby‑faced Daoist who had pinched her hand had said forty‑seven; two days before her second uncle, arms akimbo, had stood on the Mass Grave and said forty‑seven; now, having traveled several hundred li to Dun Cheng, she heard it again from the mouth of a complete stranger, the County Magistrate.

This number seemed bewitched, following her wherever she went, impossible to shake off.

Her heartbeat quickened a few beats, and her palms broke into a light sweat.

She knew she should not listen further, but her feet felt rooted, unable to move.

The room fell silent for a moment, then a low male voice sounded.

The voice was low and heavy, giving the impression of someone who dislikes speaking.

The voice said:

"Sir, you have keen eyesight. I am indeed not forty‑seven."

"I picked up this public document by the roadside. I am a drifter without household registration, unable to enter the city. When I found the document, it said forty‑seven, so I stated that. In fact I am thirty‑two years old."

The refined voice did not immediately respond.

Yunniang held her breath, hearing the teacup lid lightly tap the rim, and then that warm, smooth voice spoke slowly:

"Then who exactly are you?"

"An ordinary person."

The muffled voice answered bluntly, as blunt as a knife cutting tofu, leaving no room for doubt:

"An ordinary person who just wants a place to settle, a meal to eat, and to stop running for his life. If you don't trust me, sir, I'll leave now. If you have use for me, my life is yours."

The room fell silent again.

Yunniang stood in the corridor, her heart pounding from the fright of forty‑seven, but she let out a great sigh of relief when the man admitted to thirty‑two.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid; as long as it isn't forty‑seven, anything can be discussed!"

She took a deep breath, carefully lifted her foot, intending to retreat quietly, but her sole stepped on a loose blue‑gray brick.

The brick lifted slightly, emitting a crisp "ka‑cha."

Yunniang's heart leapt up to her throat.

Before she could react, the half‑open door before her was jerked open from inside.

A figure flashed out, moving so fast she could barely see it——

It was just a blur before her eyes, and a cold thing appeared on her neck.

A cold blade.

The thin, sharp blade pressed against the skin of her neck, a faint chill spreading from the point of contact up her neck to the ear, then down along the collarbone into her collar.

Yunniang had never seen such a scene; her whole body stiffened, and she didn't dare breathe.

And colder than the blade was a pair of eyes.

He was a man no longer very young, with a stern complexion, high brow bones, deep-set eyes, and his eyes were full of coldness.

He held the knife horizontally before her neck with one hand, braced the doorframe with the other, and looked down at her, his gaze sweeping from her face to her shoulders, then to her trembling fingers, as if he were looking at a petty thief already sentenced to death.

Yunniang had no time to react before he bellowed in a deep voice:

"You little thief, how dare you eavesdrop?"

?? Upon reaching the middle of the writing, I actually realized a funny point: the female lead's life in this story is indeed a bit rough.

? Yunniang: "xx mountains and waters, xx halls....."

? If it were Shasha instead: "A few tables, a few chairs." Hahahaha!

? Alright, dear readers, those who have read the old story can start guessing Liu Liu's identity now! This person appeared in a previous book! Since he was only a minor character back then, here's a hint: it's 【Yu】!