Great Sheng Dynasty, Summer of the 22nd Year of Jingde
The sun at the hour of Wei was blazing, filtering through the camphor trees lining the mountain path and casting dappled patches of light and shadow.
Wen Yinyue walked along the gravel-strewn trail with a bamboo basket on her back. A thin sheen of sweat formed on her forehead, which she casually wiped away with her sleeve. The sleeve was made of coarse cloth, slightly frayed—just like the gray cotton dress she wore. Both were part of the “disguise” she had deliberately prepared for leaving the valley.
She had smeared her face with a dark yellow paste mixed from valley herbs, turning her originally fair skin rough and sallow. A few fine wrinkles were drawn at the corners of her eyes, and with a blue cloth headscarf wrapped around her head, she looked exactly like a middle-aged woman who went from village to village.
This appearance not only helped her avoid possible watchers—she had never forgotten the Liu family’s pursuit—but also made it easier for her to shop at the markets outside the mountains.
There wasn’t much in the basket: only some dried herbs she planned to trade for millet, and two small cloth toys. The real “burden” was on her body. Wen Junye was strapped to her back with wide cloth bands, quietly resting against her shoulder. His small hand clutched her collar, and his grape-black eyes curiously followed the butterflies by the roadside, yet he made no sound at all. Wen Lingxi, held in her arms, was much livelier. Her little head turned this way and that as she pointed toward the sound of cicadas in the distance, humming in a milky voice, “Mama… bugs…”
“Good girl, Lingxi. Don’t be noisy. We’ll go home after we finish buying things,” Wen Yinyue said softly, lowering her head and gently scraping her daughter’s tiny nose with her fingertip.
Over the past year, the two children had grown quickly. Junye took after her—steady and quiet. At just one year old, he could already understand simple instructions. Lingxi, on the other hand, was more like the “mysterious man” from her memories: bright-eyed, bold, and curious about everything.
The vegetation along the mountain path was lush. Mugwort and foxtail grass spread along the roadside. From time to time, cicadas cried “zhe—zhe—,” blending with the rustling of leaves in the wind, creating a sense of calm.
Wen Yinyue walked steadily, her steps light as a cat’s. This was the result of cultivating the second level of the Nine Heavens Profound Spirit Art. Though her internal energy was not deep, it made her breathing steadier and her senses sharper. Even from over ten paces away, she could hear unusual sounds coming from the trees ahead.
“Hm?” She suddenly stopped, her brows knitting slightly.
It wasn’t the wind, nor insects—it was the clash of metal, clang clang, mixed with men’s muffled groans and vicious curses. Instinctively, Wen Yinyue tightened her hold on Lingxi, gently patted Junye on her back, and lowered her voice. “Junye, hold on tight to Mama. Don’t make a sound.”
Junye seemed to understand, gripping her clothes even more tightly.
Bending low, Wen Yinyue quietly circled behind a thick camphor tree in the direction of the sound. Through the gaps in the leaves, she saw a scene that made her heart sink—
In the middle of the mountain path, seven or eight men dressed in black were beating a teenage boy.
The boy looked no more than fifteen or sixteen. He wore a faded blue short jacket. An arrow was lodged in his left shoulder, its fletching still trembling. Dark blood had already soaked half his clothes. There was also a vicious wound on his abdomen, crudely wrapped with cloth, blood seeping through the gaps and dripping down his trouser leg, pooling into a small patch of dark red on the ground.
Yet he still gripped a broken sword in his hand, its tip pointed forward. Though his arm trembled, his back was straight, like a young sapling bent by a storm but not broken.
“Lin Feng! If you know what’s good for you, hand over the escort agency’s account books and spare yourself some suffering!” The leader of the black-clad men held a long saber, fresh blood dripping from its tip. His eyes were savage, as if he wanted to devour someone. “Your father’s dead, the escort agency is gone—what are you still stubbornly holding on for?”
The boy—Lin Feng—coughed up a mouthful of blood and sneered. “Account books? My father lived his whole life upright and honorable. What ‘shady account books’ could there be? You were sent by Steward Zhao, weren’t you? He embezzled the government’s escort silver, framed my father, and now wants to wipe us out? Even if I die, I won’t let you have your way!”
“Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit!” The black-clad leader, struck at the sore spot, roared in rage and swung his saber at Lin Feng. “Get him! Kill them all—leave no survivors!”
The other men immediately closed in, blades flashing as Lin Feng was engulfed. Wen Yinyue’s heart clenched sharply—this scene was far too much like her own past.
Framed, isolated, facing ruthless extermination. If she hadn’t crossed over with ancient martial and medical skills, she would have died at the bottom of a cliff long ago. And this boy before her—armed only with a broken sword and grievously wounded—would surely die if this continued.
“Mama… scared…”
Lingxi sensed the tension. Her small hands clutched Wen Yinyue’s clothes, her voice trembling with tears.
Wen Yinyue took a deep breath, gently stroking her daughter’s head, her eyes turning steely. “Don’t be afraid, Lingxi. Mama is here.”
She glanced at Junye on her back. The child was watching her with wide eyes—not panicked, but calm beyond his age. Like her, he was observing the situation.
She could not wait any longer.
Quietly, Wen Yinyue took out a palm-sized cloth pouch from her waist. Inside were silver needles she had pre-treated with anesthetic. The drug was brewed from “Drunken Immortal Flower” found in the valley—colorless and tasteless. Once it pierced an acupoint, it could make a person limp and powerless for half an hour.
She pinched three needles between her fingers, gathering a thread of internal energy at her fingertips, her gaze locking onto the three black-clad men closest to Lin Feng. If she could bring them down, Lin Feng would gain a brief chance to breathe.
“Now!”
Seizing the moment when the leader swung his saber at Lin Feng and the others focused entirely on the boy, Wen Yinyue flicked her wrist. Three silver needles shot out like streaks of lightning, flying toward the men’s Quchi acupoints (elbows) and Zusanli acupoints (above the knees). These were major points on the body; struck by needles and combined with the anesthetic, they could quickly rob a person of mobility.
“Ugh!”
“What’s going on?!”
The three men groaned almost simultaneously. Their sabers clattered to the ground as their bodies went limp and collapsed, eyes wide open, clearly unable to understand how they had suddenly lost all strength.
The leader froze, then whipped his head around. “Who’s there?! Come out!”
Wen Yinyue had no intention of revealing herself. Taking advantage of their distraction, she rushed to Lin Feng’s side, supporting his arm while carefully avoiding his wounds. With her other arm holding Lingxi, she said urgently, “Come with me!”
Lin Feng was stunned. He looked at the “middle-aged woman” before him, then at the child on her back, confusion and wariness in his eyes. “Who are you?”
“No time for questions! If you want to live, follow me!” Wen Yinyue said decisively. At the same time, she pulled out two more needles and flung them at the remaining men. This time she didn’t aim for vital points, only their calves—enough to slow them down.
The black-clad men cursed in pain and chased after them, but Wen Yinyue was already supporting Lin Feng as she ran deeper into the mountain path.
She ran steadily. Junye clung firmly to her collar, while Lingxi sensibly kept quiet, burying her face in Wen Yinyue’s neck.
Supported by her, Lin Feng staggered along. His wounds were pulled painfully, making his face contort, yet he didn’t utter a single groan.
He watched the back of this “woman”—not tall, even somewhat slender, yet every step was firm, carrying a reassuring strength. He didn’t know who she was or why she was saving him, but at this moment, she was his only way out.
After running for about half the time it takes to burn half an incense stick, a hidden mountain crevice appeared ahead. Wen Yinyue glanced back, saw no sign of pursuit, and finally relaxed. She helped Lin Feng sit on a rock by the crevice.
“Catch your breath. I’ll treat your wounds.”
She set Lingxi down, letting the child lean against her leg, then patted Junye on her back. “Junye, wait a bit longer. We’ll be home soon.”
Junye gave a soft “Mm,” rubbing his head against her shoulder.
Leaning against the rock, Lin Feng watched her movements. She took a small clay bottle and clean cloth strips from her basket, her motions far too practiced for an ordinary village woman. He couldn’t help asking, “Auntie… who are you really? Why did you save me?”
Wen Yinyue paused as she opened the bottle—it contained a hemostatic salve made from valley herbs—and looked up at him.
She had no intention of telling the truth. Calmly, she said, “I was just passing by and couldn’t stand seeing many bullying one. Your name is Lin Feng? The escort agency’s young master?”
Lin Feng was startled, then gave a bitter smile. “Auntie even knows about my family?” He had thought she was just a woman from a remote mountain village.
“I heard a few things at the market outside the mountains,” Wen Yinyue replied vaguely. She reached to check his wound, then added, “This salve will stop the bleeding, but it’ll hurt a bit. Bear with it.”
Lin Feng nodded, closed his eyes, and let her undo the cloth around his abdomen.
The wound was badly torn, bloody and mangled. Wen Yinyue dipped a clean cloth into the water she carried in a bamboo tube and gently wiped away the blood around the wound, her movements so light it was as if she feared hurting him further.
“Your father… was he really framed?” she asked softly as she applied the salve. Memories of her own experience being framed by the Liu family rose in her mind, filling her with sympathy for the boy.
Lin Feng’s body stiffened. His voice choked. “Yes… Steward Zhao is a salt merchant in the capital. Last year he asked our escort agency to transport a batch of ‘private salt.’ My father refused. So he bribed the officials, accused my father of embezzling government escort silver, and set fire to the agency… My father and all the brothers died. I only survived because I was visiting my grandmother.”
As he spoke, tears fell despite himself. He quickly wiped them away, his gaze turning resolute. “I must find evidence of Steward Zhao’s crimes and avenge my father and brothers!”
Wen Yinyue’s hand paused slightly. Looking at the hatred and determination in his eyes, she saw her own reflection from when she had first crossed over—burdened with vengeance, struggling in desperation.
After a moment of silence, she applied the last of the salve, carefully bandaged the wound, then looked at the arrow in his shoulder. “This arrow can’t be pulled out yet. We need to go back to where I live, disinfect it with strong liquor, and handle it properly, or it’ll get infected.”
“Where you live… in these mountains?” Lin Feng asked, puzzled.
Wen Yinyue didn’t answer directly. She stood up, picked up Lingxi, and patted Junye’s back. “Come on. Follow me. Don’t worry—it’s safe.”
Supporting Lin Feng, she led him into the crevice. It was narrow, only wide enough for two people side by side. Sunlight couldn’t reach inside, making it dim, yet Wen Yinyue walked with familiarity, clearly having been here often.
Following behind her, Lin Feng gradually let down his guard. This “auntie” was mysterious, yet she gave him an inexplicable sense of trust—especially the gentle look in her eyes when she looked at the children. She didn’t seem like a bad person.
After walking for about the time it takes to burn one incense stick, the sound of rushing water suddenly reached them.
Lin Feng froze, about to ask something, when Wen Yinyue pushed aside a curtain of vines at the end of the crevice. Behind it was a waterfall cascading down—and beside it, a cave entrance about the height of a person.
“This… is your home?” Lin Feng asked in surprise.
Wen Yinyue turned back and smiled at him. This was the first time since leaving the valley that she shed the cold hardness of her “middle-aged woman” disguise. Her smile was gentle. “More or less. Go inside. Let’s heal your injuries first—then we’ll talk about revenge.”
She helped Lin Feng into the cave. On her back, Junye quietly lifted his head, glanced at Lin Feng’s back, then leaned back against her shoulder again. Lingxi, curious, reached out and touched Lin Feng’s sleeve, whispering, “Big brother… doesn’t hurt…”
Looking at the two children, then at the mysterious “auntie” before him, a warmth Lin Feng had never felt before surged in his heart. When he thought the whole world had abandoned him, he had met someone in these deep mountains who was willing to save him.
He tightened his grip on the broken sword in his hand and silently vowed: if this auntie ever needed help, he would repay her—even at the cost of his life.