Chapter 227: Coincidence or Not

The three exchanged a glance and chuckled.

Song Bei in the carriage directly ahead sneezed, frowned, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his nose, then said: "Keep those people trailing behind us separated from our convoy—don't let them get close."

A Xin replied, "I've inserted two grain carts in the middle; even if someone accidentally crosses the boundary, they won't notice."

Song Bei nodded, lifted the curtain to glance back—he first saw Pan Yun and the others lounging lazily on a cart, yawning, then spotted the merchants following behind.

A chaotic mess—carts, goods, and many people carrying bundles, running on foot to keep up; afraid of being left behind, they weren't orderly but crowded beside the carts, some even stepping onto the grass beside the road, a dense, dark mass.

"Why are there so many lone travelers following us this time?"

A Xin: "A few days ago, Japanese pirates landed, bypassed the towns ahead, raided Shuangyang Village and Huaihua Village, killed many people—everyone's terrified, so no one dares travel alone to Quanzhou."

Speaking of it, A Xin still seethed with anger: "The imperial court is useless—these past years, the Japanese pirates have grown bolder, coastal defenses looser; if not for Brother, ordinary folk wouldn't even dare leave home to visit relatives."

As A Xin spoke, he looked at Song Bei with admiration in his eyes.

Song Bei sighed, his face heavy with worry: "But I alone can't do enough—I can protect them for a while, not for life."

He shook his head: "I can't even guarantee my brothers have enough to eat."

A Xin's eyes flashed with cold light; he clenched his fists: "Brother, why don't we rebel?"

Song Bei glared at him, glanced outside the curtain, then whispered: "What nonsense are you spouting? Even if we're dissatisfied, we're still subjects of the Great Ming—how can you entertain such treasonous thoughts?"

A Xin looked defiant: "Being subjects of the Zhu family means starving to death or being killed by Japanese pirates—Zhu Yuanzhang rebelled against the previous dynasty, so why can't we?"

Song Bei hissed at him: "Don't let me hear such words again—if you do, even as brothers, I won't spare you."

Though A Xin remained resentful, he dared not speak further.

Song Bei's expression softened; he glanced at the carriage behind and ordered: "Keep an eye on those three behind—highly skilled and unruly; don't let them discover what we're transporting."

Song Bei had never let go of his unease over being unable to trace the three's origins in the county.

A Xin reluctantly agreed.

He pulled back the curtain and jumped down from the cart; Pan Yun's carriage rolled slowly past him. Pan Yun, yawning lazily, met his gaze, then widened her yawn until her eyes were mere slits.

Once the carriage passed him, Pan Yun lowered her hand; beside her, Miao He also yawned.

Seeing Miao Zhen tried to hold it back, but couldn't, and yawned too.

All three were half-asleep; Seeing Miao Zhen: "Yawning is contagious."

Pan Yun, half-closed eyes, stroked Pan Xiaohei's neck: "Who says that? Pan Xiaohei didn't yawn."

Pan Yun opened her eyes a little, stroking it: "Why don't you work a bit harder and check what's in each of the carts behind?"

Pan Xiaohei mewed angrily: "If you want me to switch bodies, just say so!"

Pan Yun rolled over, facing backward, openly observing their guard arrangements.

Each cart had guards on both sides, drivers watching front and back—no cat could slip by, not even a fly flying over the roof would escape their notice.

Pan Xiaohei truly couldn't get in.

But Pan Yun didn't admit fault; instead, she patted its belly: "You're too fat—you need to lose weight."

Pan Yun ordered: "You two should feed it less from now on."

Miao He: "Cats, like people, look better a little plump."

The three and the cat chattered on—whether it was better to be fat or thin—this debate lasted until noon, when the convoy stopped to rest.

Pan Yun patted Pan Xiaohei's rump; Pan Xiaohei reluctantly jumped down and headed into the forest.

Song Bei personally brought over a packet of dried rations: "Master Sanzhu, here's your ration for today."

Pan Yun took it: "Thank you, Master."

Song Bei hurried to say: "Master Sanzhu, no need for such formality—call me Brother Song. I'm older; if you don't mind, call me Brother Song."

But Pan Yun remained businesslike: "If not for the hiring arrangement, I'd have called you so—but since I've accepted your payment, you're my employer, and I won't change that until we deliver the goods to Citong Port."

Song Bei smiled, dropped the matter, handed over the rations, then turned to patrol.

Pan Yun's gaze followed him; among the fifteen cargo carts stood one tightly covered in green cloth—she'd never seen anyone board it, but she knew three people were inside, not counting the driver.

Yet even the driver wasn't ordinary—his steps light, his breath long and faint, his eyes gleaming with sharpness, his face radiating ferocity—he was clearly no weakling.

Pan Yun judged his cultivation level equivalent to the Third Stage.

To have a Wu Gong expert driving meant the passengers inside were even stronger.

Indeed, after circling once, Song Bei took a large food box from a guard and climbed onto the cart.

Pan Yun snorted, pulled a cold, hard steamed bun from her bag, and shoved it into Miao He's hand: "So our importance is just surface-deep?"

Miao He took a bite, confused: "What do you mean?"

Seeing Miao Zhen also looked away, guessing: "Maybe because we're young—he thinks we don't understand, or won't notice?"

So they were still suffering for being young. Pan Yun pulled out a bun and bit into it hard; the cold bun chilled her heart.

Seeing Miao He enjoying his meal, she snatched the bun away: "Stop eating—here, I've got something better."

She pulled from her Spirit Realm space a packet of braised meat, plus buns and steamed buns packed from the inn that morning.

All cold. She took a large earthenware basin, dumped the packed buns and buns inside, slapped a talisman onto the basin, lifted the bag of buns, and jumped down from the cart: "Wait here."

Pan Yun carried the bag, walking back along the cargo carts—she was less than a meter from them; if she stumbled forward now and grabbed one…

Pan Yun scanned the guards glaring at her, and dropped the thought.

Forget it—the shape beneath the green cloth was clearly a crate—what use was touching a crate? She couldn't just lift it and peek inside.

Pan Yun strolled casually to the rear, where the merchants gathered, glanced around, then approached several people in thin, patched clothes, heads bowed, counting ants or drinking water to stave off hunger.

Pan Yun handed out the buns from the bag.

The recipients froze, then quickly accepted with both hands, bowing repeatedly: "Thank you, Miss! Thank you, Miss!"

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Pan Yun smiled: "I'm a Daoist Priest."

The kind-hearted immediately corrected themselves: "Thank you, Immortal! Thank you, Immortal!"

At the same time, Pan Yun heard the spirit realm's tinkling feedback.

Pan Yun was satisfied. Her gaze swept across them — whoever looked the most pitiful got one.

Song Bei didn't give Pan Yun anything tasty, but he didn't short her on dry rations either. Another day's worth — at four per person per meal, the cloth bag held twenty-five in total, with one extra, definitely not a single one short.

Pan Yun was intoxicated by the spirit realm's tinkling chime of merit points being received. When a slender hand reached over, she nearly handed the steamed bun right to them.

But because that hand was too good-looking, she froze abruptly, then lowered her eyes to look at the hand reaching in from the side, following the hand up to the person.

A youth sat beneath a tree, his hand stretched out, looking at her.

Their eyes met. The youth smiled at her sheepishly and said softly, "We left in a hurry and didn't prepare dry rations. I'm willing to pay you for two steamed buns."

Pan Yun looked at his face for a moment, then placed the steamed bun into his hand. "No need."

She took out another one and gave it to him.

The youth looked sheepish. "I have money on me — please, Daoist Priest, accept it."

Pan Yun shook her head. "Consider it me repaying a kindness."

Having said that, she stuffed the remaining two steamed buns into the hands of two little children nearby who were eyeing her eagerly, then shook the cloth bag and said, "All gone."

She turned and left right after.

The youth watched her, puzzled.

A youth slightly older than him reached over and took one steamed bun from his hand, asking, "Young Master, what did she mean about repaying a kindness? Do we know her?"

The youth looked thoughtful. "She looks a bit familiar, but I can't place her."

"If you can't place her, then don't bother. You've helped so many people — how could you remember them all?" The youth said it as a matter of course. "It's enough that she remembers. Seems doing good really does pay off — at last we won't go hungry."

Xue Shao glanced at him and said helplessly, "Just eat."

The youth immediately started gnawing on it. Though the bun was cold and hard, he still ate it with great relish.

Pan Yun swung the cloth bag as she headed back.

Song Bei had already learned of her deed, and a flicker of discomfort crossed his face.

Of the three people sitting with him in the carriage, one couldn't help but flip open the curtain and look back. His eyesight was excellent — in one glance he spotted Pan Yun walking toward them.

He swept a quick look, then dropped the curtain and said with a smile, "She is indeed young. I don't know how her martial arts are, but since Young Master Song arranged her at the very front, her skills can't be lacking."

The middle-aged man sitting across from him mocked, "If her skills aren't lacking, why did Young Master Song only give her a bag of steamed buns?"

A flash of mortified anger crossed Song Bei's eyes. He lowered his gaze to hide it and said apologetically, "It was my oversight — I prepared too few food boxes. At the time I only thought of the three of you, great heroes. Sigh, it's my fault. No wonder Daoist Priest Sanzhu is upset. I'll go apologize to her right now."

"No need," the man seated in the center said coldly. "So young and already so scheming. A practitioner of martial arts needs a pure mind — with a nature like hers, how good could her skills possibly be?"

"Young Brother Song, surely you haven't been swindled."

Song Bei sighed. "Swindled, not quite. Their martial arts really are decent, and besides, they're from Long Hushan Academy…"

The man in the center heard this, and his face filled with disgust. "So they're those fake Daoist Priests from Long Hushan. Hmph."

Pan Yun happened to be passing by at that moment. The voice wasn't quiet — she couldn't pretend she hadn't heard it even if she wanted to.

And since she'd heard it all…

Pan Yun suddenly flung open the carriage curtain, her face furious as she leaned her head in and demanded, "Who? Who's bad-mouthing our Long Hushan?"

One more chapter

(End of chapter)