Chapter 537: Night Chat at the Waterside

The transport team led by Ruan Xiaoqi was like a trickle seeping into parched land, silently penetrating southward.

They hid by day and moved at night, choosing seldom-used trails and abandoned waterways.

The hooves of the mules were wrapped in thick cloth, the axles greased, to reduce noise as much as possible.

Even so, the hardships of the road still exceeded expectations.

The Jin army's cavalry pickets, the bandits formed from defeated False Song troops, and the local strongmen's armed forces taking advantage of the chaos were like traps hidden in the darkness.

Ruan Xiaoqi, relying on his years of experience wandering the martial world and extraordinary courage, repeatedly led the team to turn danger into safety.

Sometimes they disguised themselves as grain-transport laborers, sometimes claimed to be the household of a prominent clan fleeing south from a certain place, and once they simply posed as a small unit of defeated False Song troops, muddying the waters to slip through a town occupied by rebel soldiers.

"Seventh Master, ahead is East Peace Lake."

A brother in charge of the outpost lowered his voice to report, his face showing fatigue as well as a hint of relief at reaching the designated spot.

"According to Elder Shi Dun's letter, our contacts should be in Zhang Wang Fishing Village within the lake's inlets."

Ruan Xiaoqi narrowed his eyes, gazing at the distant lake surface that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.

East Peace Lake, connected to the canal, with a dense water network, is an important passage for north-south travel and also a gathering place for all sorts of people.

Here, at the handover, risk and opportunity coexist.

"Pass the order: everyone, stay alert; on this final stretch, we cannot let down our guard."

Ruan Xiaoqi's voice was hoarse, yet it carried an undeniable vigilance.

"Divide into three teams, spacing them out front and rear to support each other."

"Without my signal, no one may enter the village lightly."

The team moved again silently, like fish gliding in the dark night, cautiously approaching the lakeside village.

Zhang Wang Fishing Village was even more dilapidated than imagined.

Dozens of crooked thatched huts were scattered along the lakeshore, most plunged in darkness, only a few flickering lights swaying in the night wind, as if they might go out at any moment.

The air was thick with fishy odor and a faint hint of burnt smell.

Ruan Xiaoqi, with his five or six most capable men, crept to the vicinity of the village's largest thatched hut.

He signaled the others to conceal themselves, while he pressed himself against the window sill like a civet cat, listening intently.

Inside, lowered voices could be heard talking.

"... Friends from the north, since you've arrived, why not come in for a chat?"

A somewhat aged yet vigorous voice suddenly rang out, clearly having already detected their presence.

Ruan Xiaoqi felt a slight chill in his heart, but did not panic.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The interior was dimly lit, with only a small fish-oil lamp.

Three people sat around the table.

The seat of honor was taken by an old man in coarse cloth shorts, his hair white-speckled, his face dark, deep wrinkles like knife cuts, his hands thick-knuckled, clearly a lifelong fisherman.

Yet in the opening and closing of his eyes lay the steady composure of one long accustomed to authority.

Flanking the old man stood two sturdy fellows, eyes sharp, hands resting on their bulging waists, warily watching Ruan Xiaoqi as he entered.

"Old sir, you have excellent hearing."

Ruan Xiaoqi clasped his fists, his gaze sweeping the interior, silently assessing the surroundings.

"I am surnamed Ruan, given name Seven."

"Entrusted by friends from the north, I am transporting some local products southward."

"May I ask how you should be addressed, elder?"

The old man sized up Ruan Xiaoqi from head to toe, then spoke slowly.

"I am Zhang Rong; friends in the martial world give me face, calling me 'Boat Elder'."

He pointed to the few coarse pottery bowls on the table.

"Please sit."

"The wind is strong on the lake at night; drink a bowl of hot water to dispel the chill."

Zhang Rong?

Ruan Xiaoqi's heart stirred.

In the letter from Shi Dun when we came, it was mentioned that there is an anti-Jin righteous army in the East Peace Lake area, led by Zhang Rong, originally the head of the local fishermen's gang; after the Jin troops moved south, he gathered a batch of unwilling fishermen and boatmen, using the lake's waters to contend with the Jin forces.

It seems the contact Shi Dun arranged is him.

"So you are Boat Elder Zhang; I have long admired you."

Ruan Xiaoqi sat down as instructed, but did not move that bowl of water.

"I wonder, Boat Elder, have you received the letter from the north?"

Zhang Rong's cloudy eyes flashed with a glint of sharpness.

"The letter, I have received it."

"Shi Brothers' token, I have also examined it."

He paused, then shifted his tone.

"But nowadays, in this world, people's hearts are hidden behind their bellies."

"I must make sure whether what Seventh Master Ruan brings is life-saving grain and medicine… or… murderous weapons."

Before his words finished, the man beside him suddenly drew a half-length short dagger, its cold gleam reflecting the dim lamp light.

The two Northward Aspiration Army brothers who had followed Ruan Xiaoqi inside immediately stepped forward, hands going to their weapons.

The atmosphere instantly tightened.

Ruan Xiaoqi smiled, raising his hand to signal the brothers behind to stay calm and not be impatient.

The boatman's caution is only natural.

He did not explain, merely took a small cloth bundle from his bosom, placed it on the table, and gently pushed it forward.

Inside were several pieces of wind-dried jerky and a small handful of golden-colored millet.

"This is a sample."

"Boatman, you may inspect it."

"The rest of the supplies are hidden outside the village."

"Once the boatman confirms there's no mistake, we can discuss the handover."

Zhang Rong stared at the jerky and millet for a moment, then lifted his eyes to look at Ruan Xiaoqi's calm gaze.

He waved his hand, and the man sheathed his short blade.

"No need to inspect."

The wrinkles on Zhang Rong's face seemed to relax a little.

"The method of making this jerky, the quality of this millet, is neither the moldy stale grain from the False Song's official granaries, nor something the Jin dogs could produce."

"It is dry provisions saved up by our own side in the north."

He sighed, his tone complex.

"The Northward Aspiration Army... indeed lives up to its reputation."

"Though we ourselves are hard-pressed, we can still send grain a thousand miles to aid you."

He lifted the bowl before him and drank the murky hot water in one gulp, as if making a certain resolution.

"Ruan Seventh Sir, I will not hide it from you."

Zhang Rong set down the bowl, his voice low.

"The days for Commander Yue's side are harder than you imagine."

"The Imperial Court's rations have not seen a single grain for three months."

"They rely solely on his personal prestige and aid from nearby villagers, plus our occasional desperate deliveries of a little from these rebel troops, just barely holding on."

"A few days ago, the Jin dogs' Liu Yu puppet army attacked again; though repelled, the Yue family army suffered considerable casualties, medicines are exhausted, many wounded... likely won't survive this winter."

"These supplies of yours are like sending charcoal in the snow, lifesaving!"

Ruan Xiaoqi listened silently, feeling the weight and gratitude in Zhang Rong's words.

He spoke in a deep voice.

"Since we share the same path, we ought to help each other."

"Only, how to safely transport it to Commander Yue's hands still requires the boatman's strong assistance."

"That goes without saying!"

Zhang Rong slapped the table.

"The waterway from Dongping Lake to Huainan, I, Zhang Rong, am fairly familiar with."

"The Jin dogs and those puppet navies are mostly for show; there are few truly formidable ones."

"I will personally lead men, using fast boats, to send it over in several batches!"

"I guarantee that within five days, the supplies will reach Commander Yue's main camp!"

After that, things went much more smoothly.

Both sides discussed the handover and transport details in detail.

Zhang Rong, familiar with the waterways, pointed out several secret routes and promised to dispatch the best sailors and fastest boats.

Everything settled, it was already late at night.

Ruan Xiaoqi left some brothers to guard the supplies, while he personally went with Zhang Rong's men to verify.

Standing by the lake, watching Zhang Rong's men—dark-skinned yet eyes full of resilience—silently and efficiently loading sack after sack of grain and crate after crate of medicine onto the narrow fast boats, Ruan Xiaoqi felt moved.

In this chaotic age, there still exists an unyielding backbone.

"Ruan Seventh Sir."

Zhang Rong walked to his side, gazing at the busy lake, then suddenly asked in a low voice.

"In the north... that Mr. Chen, is it truly as the rumors say, that he can lead everyone to forge a different world?"

Ruan Xiaoqi turned his head, looking at the old man's eyes mixed with expectation and scrutiny, and solemnly nodded.

"Mr. Chen once said, the road is made by people walking."

"The Jin are not invincible, and this muddled world is not unchangeable."

"The key lies in whether we dare to think, dare to act, and... dare to persist."

Zhang Rong remained silent for a long time, finally just patting Ruan Xiaoqi's shoulder heavily.

"Good!"

"Good indeed!"

He repeated those two words, said no more, turned and strode toward the lakeshore to direct the loading.

The fast boats, full of hope, slipped silently into the dark lake, heading south, toward the battlefield that more desperately needed light.

Ruan Xiaoqi stood on the shore until the last boat's shadow vanished among the swaying reeds, then slowly withdrew his gaze.

He touched the warm, lustrous qi-transport waist tablet that Chen Wen had personally handed to him before departure.

The mission, half completed.

Next, it is merely awaiting the south's reply, and... the breakthrough of the northern sovereign soon to arrive.