Song Yuzhang: Chapter 173 - The Journey
East City had already become very unsafe.
Solve one group, and there would be another—then another after that. Staying in East City meant always being beaten like a turtle trapped in a jar.
Leaving East City, Fu Mian still had two strongholds: one in Anjin, and one in Ye City.
But those two places were essentially no different from East City.
It would still be a life of fleeing, hiding, waiting to be hunted down.
Fu Mian disliked that feeling.
What place could turn their current passive situation into an active one?
Only Haizhou.
What was Zhang Changshan afraid of? Nothing more than Song Yuzhang “coming back from the dead,” which would ruin all his careful calculations.
With Song Yuzhang in East City, he was both Zhang Changshan’s target and his weakness. But if Song Yuzhang were in Haizhou, he would become a ticking time bomb.
Holding such a bomb in his arms, Zhang Changshan ought to understand Fu Mian’s meaning—at worst, mutual destruction. Everyone goes down together. No one gets out unscathed.
As long as Zhang Changshan had something to fear, that would be the moment Fu Mian could turn the tables.
Having made up his mind, Fu Mian lowered his head and leaned close to Song Yuzhang’s ear. “I’m taking you back to Haizhou. Are you happy?”
His palm pressed against Song Yuzhang’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Song Yuzhang’s heartbeat sped up.
“Happy,” Song Yuzhang answered honestly.
“I won’t let you leave me.”
“That depends on your ability.”
Fu Mian let out a low chuckle. “My ability…” His excitement suddenly surged. He grabbed Song Yuzhang by the shoulders and turned him fully to face him. Fu Mian’s eyes gleamed faintly. “Perfect timing—I can take care of that guy too.”
“You’re being greedy,” Song Yuzhang said. “Careful you choke on it.”
“You can’t bear it?” Fu Mian asked with interest.
“Yes.”
Fu Mian pressed on. “You like him?”
“I do.”
“You love him?”
Song Yuzhang took a deep breath. “I didn’t know whether what I felt for him really counted as love, but after being away from him for this period of time, I realized I do seem to love him.”
Fu Mian smiled. “Then all the more reason for me to kill him.”
“You won’t be able to.”
“Why?”
“He has a hard fate.”
Fu Mian pressed his forehead against Song Yuzhang’s and lightly kissed his lips. “Then let’s give it a try.”
From East City to Haizhou, the route could only be traveled by land. Fu Mian quickly assembled a convoy—carriages and horses loaded with numerous cargo crates. At a glance, it looked just like a merchant caravan.
At Song Yuzhang’s insistence, Xiao Fengxian was not stuffed into a cargo crate.
“He’s already a mute…” Song Yuzhang coughed twice. “Don’t bully him anymore.”
Fu Mian felt no sympathy or pity for Xiao Fengxian. After some thought, he decided that keeping someone locked in a crate for more than ten days might suffocate him, and only then agreed to let Xiao Fengxian disguise himself and mix in with the rest.
There were three roads out of the city. Fu Mian chose the longest one. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with the Shen family’s corpses—they were probably still lying scattered all over the nearest road.
Fu Mian led his people out of the city. After inspecting the Shen family’s bodies, the Meng family hesitated briefly, then continued forward—only to encounter a fork in the road. Decisive as they were, they split up to scout multiple routes.
The Shen family’s deaths were strange, and none of their money had been taken. The Meng family sensed something was off. Since they had already split up, they disguised themselves as ordinary travelers.
Song Yuzhang sat inside a carriage. It had windows, covered by thick curtains that blocked out the light, though air could barely pass through.
The carriage rocked gently, and inside it Song Yuzhang felt warm and drowsy. Before he knew it, the weather had turned cooler again—it was nearly autumn.
Fu Mian held Song Yuzhang on his lap, his hand stroking Song Yuzhang’s curves over and over.
Song Yuzhang was a man, yet his figure was undeniably well-contoured, pleasant to the touch.
They didn’t know how long they had been traveling when the convoy suddenly stopped.
Fu Mian lifted the carriage curtain with his hand and saw two travelers speaking to the attendants at the front. He watched through the narrow gap for a moment, then lowered the curtain again. Once the convoy started moving, he pushed open the carriage door and called someone over.
“What did those two ask just now?”
“They asked whether East City was in this direction.”
Fu Mian considered for a moment, then said, “Go. Send people to check the other two roads as well—see if there are others dressed similarly. Pay attention to their shoes.”
“Yes.”
When Fu Mian turned back, he saw that Song Yuzhang had opened his eyes at some point. Their gazes met. Light flickered in Fu Mian’s eyes. “I’m hungry,” Song Yuzhang said.
There were pastries in the carriage—soft and easy to digest—along with warm tea that hadn’t yet cooled. Song Yuzhang ate slowly and casually asked, “What were you talking to them about just now? Is something happening again?”
Fu Mian rested one hand on the small table, idly turning his teacup. “Nothing. Someone asking for directions.”
“Oh,” Song Yuzhang replied.
After nightfall, the convoy stopped to rest.
After being cooped up in the carriage all day, Fu Mian took Song Yuzhang down to get some air.
The subordinates lit several campfires to cook. Fu Mian rolled up his sleeves and washed rice to cook porridge himself.
Ever since Song Yuzhang had been poisoned, he no longer trusted anyone else with his meals.
Song Yuzhang sat by the fire warming himself. The fragrance of rice drifted gently into his nose. He said, “You don’t look like an ordinary merchant. How many people these days can afford to eat rice?”
Fu Mian stirred the porridge, checking whether it was cooked soft enough, and replied without lifting his head, “That just proves I’m a successful merchant.” He tapped the ladle against the pot. “Come eat.”
Song Yuzhang took his bowl over to serve himself. Fu Mian added a spoonful of fine sugar to his porridge. It was cooked soft, sweet, and fragrant. Song Yuzhang took a sip and said, “I want to go see Fengxian.”
Fu Mian called out loudly, “Bring him over.”
Xiao Fengxian had been silently eating steamed rice mixed with canned food among the attendants. Suddenly yanked up, he failed to hold onto his lunch box, which fell to the ground. He cried out in distress.
Seeing Xiao Fengxian, Song Yuzhang asked him directly in front of Fu Mian, “Have they bullied you?”
Xiao Fengxian shook his head quickly.
“Have you eaten?” Song Yuzhang asked.
Xiao Fengxian nodded, then shook his head again, a trace of frightened grievance showing on his face.
He was still afraid of Fu Mian.
“So you didn’t eat your fill?”
Xiao Fengxian nodded.
“Do you want some porridge?”
“Clang—”
Fu Mian set the spoon down. Without a word, he strode over, grabbed Xiao Fengxian by the collar, and hauled him up. Xiao Fengxian flailed his hands in panic but didn’t dare actually strike Fu Mian. Fu Mian dragged him to the campfire, yanked him by his messy hair, and forced his face toward the flames. Staring straight at Song Yuzhang, he said, “This face of his is pretty well known in Haizhou. Shouldn’t I add a bit of decoration to it? That’d be safer, wouldn’t it?”
Song Yuzhang’s expression didn’t change. With a flick of his wrist, he splashed the porridge in his bowl into the fire, stood up, and lifted his foot to kick over the stand holding the porridge pot.
Fu Mian flung Xiao Fengxian aside and rushed over, wrapping his arms around Song Yuzhang from behind.
Song Yuzhang bent his elbow and drove it back hard. Fu Mian took the blow to the chest, tightened his hold, and dragged Song Yuzhang backward. Song Yuzhang lashed his foot forward again, aiming at the stand.
“Enough!” Fu Mian barked.
“Who’s making trouble?” Song Yuzhang shot back. “If you don’t want to live properly, then no one should.”
Fu Mian froze. The force in his arms loosened unconsciously. As soon as he relaxed, Song Yuzhang also went limp, sagging back into Fu Mian’s embrace, clearly exhausted.
Sensing his weakness, Fu Mian steadied him. “I was just trying to scare him. Why are you getting so worked up?”
“Then why are you?” Song Yuzhang said. “I already told you—if there’s anything, take it out on me. My face is more eye-catching anyway. Add some decoration to mine.”
The cool autumn breeze brushed past. For some reason, Fu Mian felt an odd sweetness well up inside him. He kissed Song Yuzhang’s cheek. “All right. No more fussing. Let’s eat.”
This small interlude inexplicably lifted Fu Mian’s spirits. The next day, sitting in the carriage, he kept smiling at Song Yuzhang. Song Yuzhang was reading and ignored him.
Fu Mian lifted the curtain slightly, his expression turning cool. “Give them some money and send them off.”
Only then did Fu Mian belatedly realize—right now, he and Song Yuzhang were actually living together.
They were married. By all accounts, they were a couple now.
Once you’re a couple, plenty of old grudges can be set aside. Husbands and wives fight at the head of the bed and make up at the foot—perfectly ordinary.
Fu Mian leaned over. “Is the book any good?”
“No.”
“Then why are you reading it so seriously?”
“I’d rather look at a book than look at you.”
Fu Mian smiled. Just as he was about to say something, the convoy stopped again.
Someone from the front came to report that there seemed to be people blocking the road ahead.
Fu Mian lifted the curtain slightly, his expression turning cool. “Give them some money and send them off.”
“They’ve already started robbing.”
Fu Mian ducked out of the carriage, frowning as he took the binoculars from a subordinate. Sure enough, there was fighting breaking out ahead.
“Keep moving,” Fu Mian said. He took the reins, stepped up onto a horse, made a hand signal, and galloped forward with several elites.
The bandits were robbing a group of refugees fleeing the war. The refugees clearly had nothing of value. The bandits held knives to their necks, forcing them to strip so they could search them.
The one being threatened was a rather scholarly-looking young man. He sobbed, trembling. “Sirs, I really have no money left. Not a single copper on me…”
“Enough talk. Strip,” the bandit leader sneered. Seeing that the youth was fairly handsome, his eyes gleamed with lust. “No money? Then I’ll rob you of something else!”
He burst into laughter—but only laughed twice before hearing the thunder of approaching hooves.
Turning back, he saw three or five horses charging toward them. At the front was a dark-faced young man. The bandit leader raised his blade and shouted, “Who goes there? Stop right there!”
Fu Mian charged straight at him without slowing. The bandit leader panicked and reached for the gun at his waist—but Fu Mian drew the blade from his saddle and slashed.
Blood spurted from the man’s neck like a fountain. Fu Mian was fast enough that none of it splashed onto him. With a few trusted men, without even using guns, he cut down over a dozen bandits like slicing melons and vegetables.
He struck so ruthlessly that the rescued refugees didn’t even react at first. When they did, none of them dared move, afraid this was just another case of bandits turning on bandits.
Holding his blood-dripping blade, Fu Mian slashed it through the air once. “Don’t block the road.”
The refugees hurriedly dragged the bandits’ bodies off into the grass.
Fu Mian studied them thoughtfully. Most were old, weak, sick, or disabled. The only able-bodied young man among them looked scrawny as well. He thought it was probably just a coincidence—but if he really killed them all, that wouldn’t be impossible either.
Better to kill by mistake than to let one slip through.
The convoy clattered up behind him. Fu Mian glanced back. The carriage carrying Song Yuzhang was at the center of the convoy. The killing intent in his heart eased slightly. “Forget it,” Fu Mian thought. “Let’s just live properly.”
He swept his gaze over the refugees once more. Seeing no real signs of suspicion, he decided to spare them.
When the carriage drew close, Fu Mian raised his hand. The driver immediately stopped. He tugged the reins, jumped back onto the carriage, and had just pushed the door open when he heard Song Yuzhang ask, “What happened?”
“Did a good deed,” Fu Mian said.
Rolling up his book, Song Yuzhang said, “Why does it smell so strongly of blood outside?”
“People died. Of course it smells of blood.”
“What people?”
“Bandits.”
Song Yuzhang smiled.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I’m smiling because he’s gone, and bandits have started popping up again around here.”
“He?”
“Yinbing.”
“Yinbing… You call him pretty affectionately.”
“He’s on the battlefield. If you’re unhappy about it, go to the battlefield and kill him yourself.”
“You think I don’t have the ability?”
“…”
The carriage gradually moved farther away. The young man who had been dragging the bodies stood there in a daze, staring in the direction the carriage had gone, until a fellow villager shoved him hard.
“Li Xiaotian, what are you spacing out for?”
“Nothing…” Li Xiaotian snapped back to himself. He shuddered. His nose was still filled with the thick stench of blood. When the carriage door had opened just now, he’d heard a very faint voice inside—sounding like Song Yuzhang’s…
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