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After entering the woods, Wang Anfeng did not go down the mountain. Instead, he first walked toward the exit for a while, deliberately leaving behind plenty of traces. Then, using the Nine Palaces Step, he turned around and went back up against the flow. The others knew nothing of this and simply pursued him along the path. When they reached the plaque, they saw the gruesome state of the two guards, provoking a burst of startled cries.
By then, Wang Anfeng had already grabbed his two friends and was sprinting all the way toward Xue Qinshuang's residence. Xiahou Xuan was being dragged along by him, and with the situation so dire, his heart pounding wildly, he lowered his voice and said:
"You're planning to hide at Xue Thirteen's place?"
"No, here."
Wang Anfeng answered and ran straight toward Liu Wuqiu's room beside the Jiangnan-style pavilion. He slammed open the half-shut door with his shoulder, darted inside, then carefully closed the wooden door before finally letting out a breath. He dropped onto the floor, sweat beading thickly on his forehead, and panted repeatedly:
"Good... good, we're here. We can..."
Xiahou Xuan was silent for a moment before saying, "The most dangerous place is the safest place, but plenty of people understand that principle."
Wang Anfeng glanced at him and, after evening out his breathing, said:
"I'm only looking for the antidote."
"Since it managed to fool you, the poison must be precious. The antidote would certainly have been carefully hidden."
Xiahou Xuan frowned. "But the antidote could very well be on him."
By then, Wang Anfeng had already begun rummaging through everything. His hands flew as he searched, and without looking back, he said:
"No. Uncle Li said that people who are deep-minded and vicious will often hide the antidote. That way, even if they're killed, the poisoned person on the other side will fall into even more agonizing despair after their initial joy, and eight or nine times out of ten, they'll choose to kill themselves."
"Only poisons used purely as threats might have their antidotes found on the poisoner. Besides, we have no other way. I'm no match for the two guards blocking the Great Dao at the entrance." Although he had instinctively reacted to the situation, Wang Anfeng still felt that something was off.
He had just misjudged the strength of an expert. Liu Wuqiu's palm had struck him squarely in the back. The blow had sounded violent and thunderous, yet it had only contained a gentle pushing force that helped him escape. He had not been hurt at all, while the old man had cried out in astonishment about some Qi-Protecting Armor.
The outer garment he wore had been given to him by Xue Qinshuang, while the clothes underneath had been made by tearing cloth himself. The fabric had cost thirty coins per chi. How could it possibly be some kind of Qi-Protecting Armor?
And there was the method of poisoning through wine and meat. Although it was ingenious, what if someone, like him, did not drink wine, or simply disliked those dishes? Wouldn't it be highly likely that something would go wrong?
Wouldn't poisoning the smoke have been better?
Xiahou Xuan did not know what Wang Anfeng was thinking. He only felt that Wang Anfeng's words made perfect sense. Outside, shouts could be heard drawing nearer, then fading into the distance. Wang Anfeng's hands moved faster and faster. Even though he tried to keep quiet, the faintest friction was unavoidable. Every tiny collision sounded like exploding thunder in Xiahou Xuan's ears, making his heart race.
He had lived fifteen years, yet he had never been as terrified as he was today.
The room was divided into front and rear halls and was not very large. Wang Anfeng quickly searched every corner, but found no medicine at all. There was only a jar of aged wine of unknown vintage, which Wang Anfeng casually tossed onto the bed. Watching Wang Anfeng's brow tighten slightly, Xiahou Xuan felt his mouth go dry and said in a low voice:
"Knock on the walls and see if there's a hidden room."
Wang Anfeng nodded and carefully knocked along the walls, but nothing seemed unusual. Every section was solid, causing Xiahou Xuan's heart to sink further and further. He gave a bitter smile inwardly:
"This time, I managed to lure the guards away, only to trap myself in a situation like this..."
"Sugar-coated hawthorn... Sugar-coated hawthorn... Your husband is going to die here... Remember to remain a widow for me..."
Crack!
At that moment, a crisp sound suddenly rang out. Xiahou Xuan's body trembled faintly and his heart instantly began pounding faster. When he realized that it had not alerted any enemies, he let out a long breath and looked brightly toward Wang Anfeng. The latter had cautiously opened a hidden compartment beside the bed. Xiahou Xuan no longer cared about maintaining his composure and asked anxiously:
"How is it? Is it medicine?! Bring it here and let me take a look..."
Wang Anfeng sighed faintly, making Xiahou Xuan's heart sink. By then, Wang Anfeng had already risen and walked over, but what he held was merely a folding fan.
A short poem had been written on it in hairpin-style script. The strokes were delicate, clearly the work of a woman. The fan leaf had already yellowed, and it was impossible to tell how many years old it was. Xiahou Xuan took it with difficulty, but could not detect anything unusual. With his discerning eye, he could only tell that the fan was likely an antique from sixty or seventy years ago.
After all that excitement for nothing, Young Master Xiahou finally sank into helpless despair. He casually threw down the fan and sighed:
"There's no helping it. In a while, I'll make some noise and you can leave on your own. That fool and I are worth a bit of silver, at least. Go down the mountain to the commandery city and find a consumptive ghost carrying a qin at the largest inn. If you hurry, we might still have a breath left in us..."
Wang Anfeng was silent for a moment, but his gaze fell on the withered-yellow folding fan. It had been preserved extremely well, without the slightest damage. Only the poem had four characters circled in fresh-red cinnabar, as though someone had greatly admired them. Aside from that, there was nothing unusual. He raised his eyes to Xiahou Xuan and said:
"...Be careful. Don't make a sound. I have a way to escape."
"Hold on."
Xiahou Xuan was slightly startled and hurriedly asked in a low voice, "What are you going to do?!"
"I'm going to burn down their stables. The horses belonging to those noble heirs should be enough to cause some trouble."
Wang Anfeng took off the loose outer robe he wore, leaving himself in only a fitted suit. He tightened his wrist guards, placed his hand on the door, and said, "Be careful in everything. Don't worry about me."
"You..."
Before Xiahou Xuan could finish speaking, Wang Anfeng had already opened the door with exceptional sharpness. He rolled into a patch of grass, then crouched low and headed toward the stables he remembered passing that day. If the Green Dappled Horse had not possessed such a fierce temperament, he probably would have been put into the stable as well.
In the deep night, Wang Anfeng moved swiftly through the enemy's den alone, extremely cautious. Yet for some reason, the farther he went, the clearer the little poem on the fan became in his mind. The four characters freshly marked in cinnabar shone a dazzling red, like blood...
Wait, freshly marked?!
Wang Anfeng abruptly stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly. The unease that had been lurking in his heart became increasingly obvious.
It was an old object... something treasured and carefully preserved. So why had fresh cinnabar been added to it?
Four characters had been circled on it... "illness, great, fixed, drunk."
The poem... the poem...
Wang Anfeng's brows drew tighter and tighter. The growing unease made him somewhat agitated. Just then, two sets of footsteps sounded nearby. His pupils contracted slightly as he lowered his body. His breathing became as faint as that of a small woodland animal, while his right hand pressed against the dagger at his waist. Two middle-aged men carrying long blades approached, chatting as they walked.
"His father really miscalculated completely this time..."
"Who could say otherwise? The guards at the mountain pass were killed, and those two boys have probably already escaped. He even bought a poem, hoping to show off in front of the Altar Master. Heh, drawing water with a bamboo basket only to come up empty-handed, and leaving you and me to suffer for it... That old immortal!"
The two men went far away. Wang Anfeng stood rooted to the spot as if struck by lightning, his eyes glowing faintly. One by one, the things that had felt wrong surfaced in his mind, then linked together with the speed of lightning, forming a single image.
"Though this old man is no great talent, I wrote a poem myself. Nephews, please judge it."
A newly written poem, fresh cinnabar, an unlocked door, and a poisoning method requiring both wine and meat.
"Great illness fixes drunkenness"—those four characters corresponded perfectly to the poem's four lines.
The Great Dao was originally difficult for people to understand
Illness nurtures the spirit beyond taking medicine
Fixed in place, where is Old He today
Drunk, seeking night rain and wine at the flag pavilion
If the four lines were arranged like this, they naturally did not follow the rules of composing poetry. But if the head matched the tail, then those four characters were...
Wang Anfeng's pupils abruptly contracted. His mind flashed back to the aged wine he had casually tossed onto the bed.
"The antidote is in the wine!"
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