As night deepened, the oil lamps in the simple guest rooms of the inn had long been extinguished, with only the cold moonlight filtering through the paper windows and casting blurry shadows inside.
Gu Anqi lay on the hard wooden plank, his eyes closed, but his breathing was far less steady and long than usual.
The scene of Ah Chen being reported by the people of the city at the dinner table played out repeatedly in his mind like a ghost—Ah Chen had only stood under a tree for a few more moments, yet he had attracted such rapid, precise, and simultaneous “attention” and “reporting” from multiple points.
The deeper he thought, the colder the chill in his heart grew.
Feng Qinghe’s terrifying system of permeating daily life and neighborhood interactions with her dominance left individuals with virtually no place to hide.
He recalled the words in the “Operations Manual,” which he had initially thought were somewhat exaggerated, but now seemed to resonate with stark reality.
He turned over, facing the wall, his brow furrowed.
In the past, even when in the most dangerous situations, he could still use his wits to find a glimmer of hope.
But faced with this pervasive surveillance, composed of countless ordinary people, whether “voluntary” or “forced,” how much room could his personal intelligence and strength possibly play?
An unprecedented, profound sense of powerlessness gripped him.
On the other side of the room, on the bed, Ah Chen sat up abruptly.
Leaning against the earthen wall, one leg bent, his arm resting on his knee, his eyes wide in the darkness, two dark flames seemingly burning deep within his pupils.
He had always believed in absolute power, accustomed to walking alone in the shadows, relying on his extraordinary senses and skills to avoid all danger.
But today, he had been defeated by a group of “commoners” he had never taken seriously!
Defeated by a set of rules he couldn’t comprehend at all!
It wasn’t just a sense of defeat but also a furious outburst of rage after his understanding was overturned and…
a fear he himself was unwilling to admit.
He couldn’t understand why those seemingly ordinary peddlers, old women, and children possessed such terrifying “sense of smell” and action.
What kind of bewitching potion had Feng Qinghe given them that could turn everyone in the entire city into her eyes and ears?
This power was omnipresent, all-pervasive, and originated from “ordinary people” whom he could not easily draw his sword against.
Under the moonlight, his clenched fists made a slight cracking sound from the knuckles.
Feng Qinghe’s words, “the vast ocean of people’s war,” echoed in his ears like a curse.
For the first time, he realized that in the Thirteen Alliances, the greatest danger might not come from the open gunfire on the front lines but from the countless “well-intentioned” yet deadly eyes behind him.
This night was destined to be long for Gu Anqi and Ah Chen.
One saw the boundless iron curtain in the abyss of intrigue, while the other felt the quicksand beneath his feet at the peak of power.
Feng Qinghe didn’t even need to say anything more; this small episode in their daily lives had already deeply etched her terror into their very bones.
The next morning, the simple aroma of rice porridge and pickled vegetables filled the dining hall of the post station.
Around a few square tables sat some merchants and postmen who were on their way to the post station.
The noise was a little noisy.
Gu Anqi and Ah Chen chose a quiet corner by the window and ate their breakfast in silence.
At the next table, several middle-aged people who seemed to be local residents were eating and chatting.
Their voices were not loud but quite clear in the relatively quiet environment.
They were not talking about important military or national affairs, but rather the latest “news” from their neighborhood.
“Have you heard?
A new family moved into that courtyard at the end of Sishui Lane that’s been empty for so long!” A man in a fur-lined jacket took a sip of porridge and spoke with great interest.
“How could we not know?
Old Wang’s wife delivered pickled vegetables the day before yesterday!” Another slightly plump woman immediately chimed in, her face beaming with excitement at sharing a secret.
“She said she came from the south, and there are four people in her family: a husband and wife with two teenagers.” “What do you do for a living?” the third person asked.
The man in the fur-lined jacket lowered his voice, but it was still clear to those around him: “He said he used to run a medicinal herb business in the south.
He seems like an honest person.
The man looks quite amiable, and the woman is a bit shy.” “That’s right,” the woman interrupted, her eyes shining.
“My husband got up to pee in the middle of the night yesterday and saw the man of that house feeding stray cats in the yard!
Isn’t that strange?
In the middle of the night, in the dark, he was just squatting there, making ‘meow’ noises.
He’s quite leisurely.” The group chuckled softly and began discussing the family’s accent, the furniture they had brought, how the children were doing in school, and other trivial matters, as if the new neighbors had no secrets from them.
Gu Anqi paused for a moment, his hand holding the chopsticks still.
He slowly brought a small mouthful of porridge to his mouth, his eyelids lowered, seemingly calm, but his heart was in turmoil.
The shock from last night’s “old tree incident” had not yet subsided, and this seemingly ordinary street chatter only intensified the chill that seeped into his bones.
This wasn’t just casual conversation; it was a silent, highly efficient “information sharing,” faster than any other sect in the martial arts world could gather information!
How many days had they been here?
Who were their family members?
Where were they from?
What did they do for a living?
Even private details like feeding the cat at night were revealed in the midst of their laughter and chatter and quickly shared among the neighbors.
What terrifying cohesion and…surveillance instinct lay behind this?
Feng Qinghe’s rules had infiltrated to such an extent!
Newcomers were like fish in a transparent fishbowl, their every move under the watchful eyes of “neighborly care,” with nowhere to hide.
He subconsciously looked up and glanced at Ah Chen across from him.
Ah Chen was picking up his bowl to drink porridge, his movements seemingly normal, but the rim of the bowl almost completely obscured his face.
Even though he was looking down, Gu Anqi could still sense that in that shadow, Ah Chen’s gaze was sharp as a hawk’s, fixed intently on the swaying rice in the bowl, as if Feng Qinghe’s smiling face was hidden within it.
The oppressive aura emanating from him seemed to freeze even the dust on the corner of the table.
The conversation at the next table continued, the topic shifting from the new neighbors to the price of pork in the East Market.
But Gu Anqi and Ah Chen both understood that the earlier chat about “feeding the cat” had a far greater impact than the roar of a thousand troops.
Gu Anqi gently put down his chopsticks; most of the porridge in the bowl was still left.
He had lost his appetite.
At almost the same time, Ah Chen slammed his empty bowl down on the table with a loud bang.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it carried a suppressed restlessness.
He looked up and his eyes met Gu Anqi’s for a moment.
Both of them saw the same solemnity and coldness in each other’s eyes.
Without a word, they all reaffirmed the sleepless realization of the previous night: in these Thirteen Alliances, especially in the city that Feng Qinghe had long cultivated, they were no longer observers, but rather “scenery” constantly being observed by countless pairs of “well-meaning” eyes.
The freedom of individual will and action had become a luxury here, even a “suspicious behavior” that needed to be carefully concealed.
Feng Qinghe didn’t even need to show herself; the living, breathing “city of surveillance” she had built had already silently proclaimed her absolute authority.
The breakfast was utterly unappetizing, and the two rose almost simultaneously, silently leaving the dining hall.
The sunlight outside the window shone brightly on the bluestone pavement of the Eighth City, but it couldn’t dispel the heavy shadows in their hearts.
Gu Anqi and Ah Chen had just stepped out of the dining hall when they ran into Hongzhu, who was walking towards them.
Hongzhu was still dressed in her usual smart and practical outfit, her expression calm.
She gave the two of them a slight nod: “Mr.
Gu, has Brother Ah Chen’s breakfast been served?” Gu Anqi suppressed the turmoil in his heart, his face regaining its usual gentleness, and replied with a smile, “Thank you for your concern, Miss Hongzhu.
It’s already been used.” He paused, seemingly making a casual remark, but his tone carried a hint of probing, “The local customs and traditions of your region are truly astonishing.
The people are enthusiastic in helping each other and are very well-informed.
The ‘whispering god’ technique under Commander Feng is truly unparalleled.” He euphemistically referred to the suffocating surveillance as “whispering god.” Hongzhu, being an exceptionally intelligent person, immediately discerned the implicit unease and doubt in Gu Anqi’s words.
Her face remained expressionless, but her gaze was clear and honest.
Looking at Gu Anqi, she glanced at the cold-faced Ah Chen beside her and spoke calmly, as if stating a perfectly natural truth: “Mr.
Gu, you flatter me.
There’s no need for you to feel uneasy about it.” She turned slightly to the side, gesturing for the two to continue walking and talking, her pace neither hurried nor slow.
“If you think about it carefully, isn’t the essence of human interaction just you observing me and me observing you?” Hongzhu’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear and audible.
“Among neighbors, who has guests, who has cooked new dishes—these are all everyday topics of conversation.
If one acts with integrity and has an open mind, these observations and casual chats are merely bridges for neighbors to increase understanding and help each other and magic weapons for enhancing relationships.
So how can it be called ‘surveillance’?” As she spoke, a smile, neither humble nor arrogant, even appeared on her lips: “Commander Feng often tells us that if two people want to get closer, there are only two things: either they can chat about the gossip of this family and that family, or they can share some private matters that cannot be told to outsiders.
The former is the warmth of everyday life, and the latter is trust.
What you see and hear as you walk around the city is just some novel ‘gossip of this family and that family’ in the eyes of the common people, which becomes the topic of conversation for them to enhance their relationship after dinner.” Hongzhu stopped and turned around, looking at Gu Anqi and Ah Chen with a serious expression.
Her tone was firm: “Therefore, things like the conversations we overheard in the dining hall this morning or the time we stopped under the tree in Sishui Lane yesterday are not considered ‘intelligence’ by Commander Feng.
They will not be presented to her and cause her any trouble.
What she really needs to review are important matters concerning the safety of the city and the movements of the enemy.
If all these trivial matters were reported, not to mention Commander Feng, even we would not be able to handle them.” Her words were perfectly worded.
They explained that the ubiquitous “observation” was the norm in a society based on human relationships, cleverly downplaying “surveillance” as “mutual assistance” and “topics for conversation.” They also implied that Gu Anqi and Ah Chen’s current level of “being watched” was still very low, far from the point where Feng Qinghe needed to pay attention to them personally.
This subtly reduced the sense of oppression and gave the two of them a way out.
Upon hearing this, Gu Anqi’s eyes flickered slightly.
He secretly sighed that Hongzhu was not only highly skilled in martial arts but also had such a clever and insightful mind.
He cupped his hands and said, “Miss Hongzhu’s words have enlightened me.
We were wrong.
Thank you for your guidance.” Ah Chen followed beside her without saying a word, constantly pondering in his heart.
It was still unknown whether Hong Zhu’s words had completely dispelled his doubts, but at least they provided a “reasonable” explanation that he could convince himself of.
Hongzhu bowed slightly: “Mr.
Gu, you are too kind.
If there is nothing else, I will take my leave first, as I have something to instruct Commander Feng.” Watching Hongzhu’s departing figure, Gu Anqi let out a soft sigh.
Hongzhu’s explanation was clever, but it did not change the essence—the Thirteen Alliances were still under the absolute control of Feng Qinghe’s rules.
However, this control was covered with a layer of “human relationships” and warmth, making it less naked but also more difficult to break free from.
He looked at Ah Chen, and Ah Chen was also looking at him; their eyes met briefly before looking away.