Chapter 98: Not even a bit of a foolish ruler

Unclear, not understandable.

We must go see it with our own eyes first to know.

Du Shanü nodded, indicating assent, then lifted the porridge bowl, ate a few mouthfuls, and took out several copper coins from her sleeve, placing them on the table.

Chinu obediently rose, took the rain hat from beside her, and placed it on her.

The sky was dim, her beautiful eyes blazing.

Chinu lowered her lashes, her fingers tracing the skin at her neck, tying the strap in a knot under her jaw, the movement gentle; as she withdrew, her fingertip unintentionally brushed the underside of her ear, carrying a faint warmth.

Outside, the rain was still falling.

Although it had lessened considerably from last night, it didn't look like it would stop.

Fine rain slanted down, cool on the face; distant fields and forests were shrouded in a gray mist, outlines blurred, as if veiled by a thin gauze.

Two horses were tethered in the shed, already fed and watered; Du Shanü smoothed the horses' manes, and rainwater trickled down through the gaps between mane and raincoat, gathering into a thin stream at the edge of her boots.

Chinu wrapped their belongings in oilcloth, slung them onto the saddle, then returned to Du Shanü's side.

Raindrops dripped from Chinu's rain hat, forming strings of beads; faintly, one could see the person behind the curtain, their brows showing a rare clarity and bashfulness.

"On a cold rainy day, why don't we ride together...?"

"What's with all this clinginess?"

"I'm going to be clingy!"

"I'm going to be clingy!!!"

"Best, best if everything remains as last night, with no distinction between us."

"Best, best to let everyone know that the two of us are no longer as we were before......"

Chinu recalled last night's intimacy, trying to keep her tone casual, but the skin at her ears flushed completely, even more than when they were indoors.

Du Shanü savored a few breaths, finally unable to hold back a laugh.

Rainwater trickled down from her prominent brow, and Chinu's Adam's apple bobbed again.

She neither said yes nor no, simply took the reins from his hand and mounted her own horse.

Her motion was swift and clean; the raincoat swept an arc, scattering droplets from its brown fur.

One drop landed on Chinu's face, cold enough that he slightly closed his eyes.

In his formerly hopeful gaze, a hint of sobriety emerged.

Du Shanü didn't notice this detail, only saying:

"In such heavy rain, two people on one horse—no one could possibly hold on......"

"Good Chinu, let's first attend to our duties,"

"Public and private affairs, Du Shanü always keeps them clearly separate."

"Although I wish Chinu were always this obedient and clingy!"

"However, there are many matters outside; it's not a time to indulge in love every day."

"Moreover, if she doesn't accomplish something big, she won't be able to afford Chinu's golden house later!"

"By day attend to daytime affairs, by night attend to Chinu's......"

"No, it's nighttime for nighttime affairs—quite normal!"

Du Shanü spurred her horse forward, hooves splashing through puddles, returning to the road ahead.

Chinu stood dazed in the pouring rain, engulfed by a bone‑chilling cold.

She did not look back, nor hesitate.

Thus, she failed to see Chinu's gaze lingering long on her back, his brows and eyes gradually growing gloomy again.

After a while, he finally swung onto his horse and followed.

The two horses went one after another, facing the fine rain, heading southeast.

The gray mist of rain soon concealed their figures.

The two horses traveled nearly an hour and a half on the muddy road, hooves sinking into pits and pulling up, splashing mud that dyed their legs a yellow‑earth hue.

The brown fur of the raincoat soaked up rain, weighing heavily on her shoulders; Du Shanü's back was drenched with sweat and moisture, indistinguishable whether it was rain or perspiration.

Du Shanü faintly sensed Chinu was displeased all along, but didn't dwell on it; only as they neared Zhenjiang Village did she gently rein in her horse and ask:

"We've been traveling in the rain for over an hour—are you hungry? Let's stop at Zhenjiang Village to freshen up, find an inn, eat, then continue."

Chinu's rain hat sagged slightly, a string of autumn rain dripping down.

Through the rain curtain, Du Shanü couldn't see his face, but the fact that he reacted to her eased her mind a little.

They pressed on, and not far off the outlines of houses began to appear.

It was a respectable little village, lining the road with about thirty or forty households.

At the village entrance stood a stone stele, washed bright by the rain, bearing three characters—Zhenjiang Village.

Du Shanü rode into the village, searching everywhere for an inn; as she searched, she slowed her horse.

This village is too quiet.

They had just left Daguan Village not long ago; what a normal village looks like is crystal clear.

People, dogs barking, kitchen stove smoke......

In this village, there is none of it.

Only a few old locust trees stood bare by the roadside, their branches drooping from the rain, like a line of hunched‑over elders.

Houses lined the road, doors shut tight; some were ajar, swinging back and forth in the wind, creaking.

A few homes had a corner of their wall collapsed, rubble scattered in the mud, already coated with a thin layer of moss.

Nobody.

In this village, unbelievably, there is nobody.

Only the rain and occasional wind sounded, passing through the half‑closed door, murmuring like someone crying.

Du Shanü dismounted, her boots stepping into the mud, the mud rising above the shoe tops.

She threw the reins to Chinu and walked to the door of the nearest house.

The door was half‑open; she pushed it, the hinge emitted a dry groan, the whole door fell inward, almost coming off its frame.

She stood on the threshold and glanced inside.

The main room was small, with an Eight Immortals table and two long benches; the table held nothing, covered in a thin layer of dust.

The stove was cold, the pot lid askew to one side, the pot bottom clean, not a grain of rice inside.

She went into the inner room; a broken mat was spread on the earthen kang, half‑rolled up, exposing the bricks beneath.

In the corner lay a few tattered garments, already moldy, gray‑green mildew spreading across the fabric.

Empty.

Nothing at all.

The good news is, this village doesn't look like it was looted.

Inside, there were no signs of disturbance; the tables and chairs were neatly arranged, no smashed furniture, no broken pottery, everything tidy.

It looks like the residents packed up, shut the door, and left; after a while, the door was knocked open by wild animals.

Du Shanü stepped back out, entered a few neighboring houses, and found them all the same.

Every household's stove was cold, the rice bins empty, nothing of value left—only the heavy, immovable furniture and moldy old clothes remained.

Du Shanü went through each empty room one by one; Chinu silently led the horse behind her, never speaking from start to finish, only furrowing his brow slightly.

Finally the two stopped in an empty house at the village's edge; Du Shanü patted her rain cloak, and a wet patch immediately spread on the ground.

"Looks like they moved out...... but moving out would be even stranger."

"What happened to this village that would cause all the villagers to move out?"

?? Who still remembers Chinu utterly despising Yu Baobao's lovesick brain...... but when it's his turn, sigh.