Hunted

The weather in Luoyang City grew colder by the day. Snow had fallen a few days earlier, leaving long icicles hanging beneath the eaves of the Knowledge and Practice Institute. White snow piled on the branches, making the trees look from a distance as though they had burst into white blossoms.

The snow on the paths had been cleared and heaped on open ground. A few sparrows hopped across the yellowed grass, pecking for food. Nearby, snow stained and mixed with black soil resembled a heap of filthy cotton.

A cold wind swept past, scattering a flurry of powdery snow from the trees...

He An passed beneath a tree and tugged his collar tighter, stamping his feet, which had grown somewhat numb from the cold. The sparrows on the grass fluttered up to the treetops in alarm.

The bell marking the end of lessons rang a little early that day. With the weather so cold, the kitchens had begun serving ginger soup daily, and charcoal fires were lit in the dormitories from time to time. The Literary Institute had also distributed padded clothes and other winter necessities to poorer students. Even so, some students had fallen ill.

He An wore a lightly padded cotton robe. As he walked, he circulated his cultivation technique, sending true qi coursing through his body. Before long, he no longer felt cold.

There were few people about in the Knowledge and Practice Institute. When he reached the gate, he spotted the black carriage nearby. Wrapped in a thick padded coat, the driver sat on the carriage shaft with his whip in his arms. The sturdy horse had a glossy coat and pawed at the snow beneath a tree with its front hooves, letting out a series of impatient snorts and puffing clouds of white breath from its nostrils.

The carriage curtain lifted. Han Chanjuan glanced at He An and jumped down with delight written across her face. She turned and said something to the driver, who drove away alone.

"What would you like to eat today? My treat!"

Walking beside her along Vermilion Bird Avenue, He An looked at Han Chanjuan with a smile as he asked.

That day, she wore a white pleated cloak of fox-flank fur. A small grass-green sachet hung from the yellow silk cord at her waist, and a white Zhaojun winter hat covered her head. Her clear black-and-white eyes rested on He An as she smiled with her lips pressed together. A few wisps of hair escaped from her hat onto her forehead, making her look indescribably mischievous and adorable.

"It's terribly cold today. Why don't we have hot pot?" Han Chanjuan rubbed her little hands and held them to her mouth, breathing warmth onto them. "The hot pot at Truly Different is good, but it's too far away. I heard the Drunken Immortal Tower hired a Persian cook for theirs, but the flavor is really strange. Hmm..."

"I know somewhere nearby. The food's pretty good. Dazhi took me there a few days ago," He An said.

"Oh, right. Why didn't that friend of yours, Dazhi, come with you today?" Remembering Fan Dazhi's endearingly guileless manner, Han Chanjuan smiled until her eyes curved into crescents.

"He's been absorbed in the new technique he's practicing lately. He said he's reached a crucial stage. It's rare to see him work so hard, so I didn't bring him," He An explained with a smile.

They turned from Vermilion Bird Avenue onto Dingding Avenue, crossed Changchun Road, and reached a row of taverns near Chongwen Ward. A strange mixture of smells drifted toward them from afar.

There was a mule and horse market nearby, and they could faintly hear the cries of cattle, horses, sheep, and other livestock. The ward's roads were muddy, with filthy water running everywhere and animal droppings scattered about. The smell of fodder and the rank odor of livestock mingled in the air with the aroma of food cooking in the nearby taverns.

Darkness fell early in winter. Pedestrians gradually thinned out on the streets, and bright lamps began glowing in the taverns, looking especially warm in the chilly dusk.

He An led Han Chanjuan into a small establishment called the Imperial Fragrance House. It was not large, and several tables of diners sat gathered around steaming hot pots. Their eyes lit up when Han Chanjuan entered.

A man in a battered felt hat dropped the chopsticks he had been using to pick up food. He bent down hastily to retrieve them, then quickly nudged his companion with his elbow. His companion was pouring wine into a cup. Looking up at the radiant, lovely Han Chanjuan, he froze, only snapping out of his daze when the overflowing wine spilled onto his leg.

They found empty seats in a corner, and a waiter hurried over to greet them. Han Chanjuan reverted to her usual whirlwind manner as a fiery young lady, ordering two plates of mutton and some seasonal vegetables in one breath, followed by two jin of beef, a plump chicken, two mandarin fish, and half a roast leg of lamb. He An was inwardly flabbergasted. He slipped a hand into his pocket and felt the pitiful few scraps of silver and copper coins inside.

"Waiter, apart from the hot pot, the two plates of mutton, and a few servings of greens, pack up everything I just ordered and have someone deliver it to the Knowledge and Practice Institute. Hmm... tell them to take it to Young Master Fan Dazhi's residence."

"Well... ours is a small business with a narrow margin. We've really never done anything like that before, miss..." Before the waiter could finish, Han Chanjuan took out an exquisite purse and pinched a soybean-sized nugget of gold from it. "Will this be enough?"

"Yes, yes! More than enough! I'll arrange for someone to deliver it right away." The waiter accepted it, beaming as he nodded and bowed, then hurried off to bring them their food.

"I said dinner was my treat. Doing this... where does that leave me?" He An sounded a little displeased.

"Do we really need to draw a line between yours and mine?" Han Chanjuan shot him a look, then smiled brightly. "If you feel bad about it, treat me next time!"

Warmth filled He An's heart. He wanted to say more, but the waiter had already brought over the charcoal fire and steaming hot pot. Once the mutton and other dishes had been placed on the table, Han Chanjuan put a few slices of mutton and some greens into the boiling pot, gently stirring them with her chopsticks.

Lowering her long lashes, she said softly, "Martial artists eat a great deal. When my father practiced martial arts in his youth, he could eat half a sheep in one meal. He said that was where the saying 'the poor study letters, the rich practice arms' came from. How could children from poor families have any strength with empty stomachs? You may not spend much at the Knowledge and Practice Institute, but there'll be plenty of things you'll need money for later. Stop fussing with me. Here, taste this mutton and see if it's good."

He An saw nothing but concern in her eyes and brows, without a trace of her usual willfulness. An unexpected wave of emotion swept through him. He sniffed and said, "This place really is a bit shabby. I forgot there was a mule and horse market nearby."

Han Chanjuan took a bite of mutton, her smile blooming like a flower. "The mutton here is good-very fresh. As for the mules and horses, they're nothing. Back when I was in... Western Liang, we kept plenty of cattle and horses at home too. It actually feels quite familiar." As she spoke, she helped He An to more food. The hot pot bubbled, its milky broth rolling, and the thinly sliced mutton cooked to exquisite tenderness. Dipped in a small dish of minced garlic and sesame oil, it made for a thoroughly satisfying meal...

On that winter night, the imperial capital of Luoyang City still blazed with lights. Countless lanterns glowed in the distant Imperial Palace, glittering through the darkness in a dazzling display of splendor.

A few barks rang out in Chongwen Ward, dwindling into whimpers in the cold wind before slowly falling silent. A tattered strip of cloth danced sinuously in the wind, curling as it skimmed over the smooth flagstones of Dingding Avenue and drifted farther away. Lanterns beneath the eaves swayed unsteadily, and the banners outside the closed taverns snapped in the wind.

After dinner, they walked side by side along the street. The night had deepened, and the cold, empty road was utterly deserted. Han Chanjuan tightened her collar. The rosy flush brought to her cheeks by the hot pot's steam had yet to fade.

"I... had a wonderful time today. Thank you!" Walking beside He An, Han Chanjuan fluttered her long lashes and smiled sweetly. "Here's wishing you victory the moment you raise your banner. That fellow who keeps sending you challenge letters is so annoying. The more you give way to some people, the more they take a mile when you give them an inch. But... whatever you do, I'll support you!"

He An said nothing. He had a vague feeling that something was wrong.

Quiet. Far too quiet. The street was as still as death. Lantern light cast two long black shadows behind them.

A cold wind brushed over the withered yellow leaves on the stone road, sending them rolling with a dry rustle.

He An tilted his head to listen, one ear twitching repeatedly, his expression grave.

"What's wrong?" Noticing the change in him, Han Chanjuan could not help asking softly.

At the far end of the dim street, another gust rose. Along with it came two brief, sharp thrums.

He An's expression changed drastically. He threw himself at Han Chanjuan, knocking her down. Just before they hit the ground, he struck the pavement with one palm and spun his body rapidly around.

At the same instant, two short fine steel bolts streaked past like white light and buried themselves in a shop door behind them with two dull thuds.

"This is bad!" Without hesitation, He An pulled Han Chanjuan into a sprint. There was clearly more than one attacker, and they were using powerful crossbows. The Great Chen Empire strictly controlled bows and arrows; private armed forces were forbidden to use them, with the military being the sole exception. The farther away a powerful crossbow's target was, the more sharply its accuracy and force diminished.

He An pulled Han Chanjuan along the walls of the shops lining the street, fleeing at full speed and deliberately choosing routes with obstacles for cover. Running down the open middle of the street would make them moving targets.

Whooshes sounded behind them. Another short bolt skimmed overhead, pierced a lantern beneath the eaves, and set it ablaze.

He An glanced back. Two men dressed in black, their faces covered with black cloths, were running and leaping after them in relentless pursuit.

Before long, Han Chanjuan was panting. Yet instead of fear, her lovely face showed a trace of excitement as she asked, "How... how... did you... realize something was wrong?"

"When we came out... I couldn't hear a single sound from the nearby mule and horse market... That kind of silence was too unnatural..." He An ran swiftly with her hand in his, his voice scattering in the wind.

Two whooshes rang out as the black-clad pursuers closed the distance, raised their powerful crossbows, and fired. The fine steel bolts became two streaks of white light, shooting like meteors straight at He An's back.

Without looking back, He An abruptly wrapped an arm around Han Chanjuan's slender waist and leaped. At an angle an ordinary person could scarcely imagine, he raced along the wall. The two incoming bolts struck the masonry, scraping out a trail of sparks before dropping to the ground with clear clinks.

He An landed on both feet, but his heart sank...

Ahead on the broad street, two more black-clad men had dimly appeared. Their faces were likewise covered with black cloths, and gleaming long sabers rested in their hands as they moved in to encircle them.

He An swiftly scanned his surroundings, then broke into a sprint with his arm around Han Chanjuan, darting without a second thought into an alley beside the street.

The alley was deep and dark. They ran several dozen meters in one stretch before He An stared in dismay. It was a dead end. He spun around. All four black-clad men were already standing at the alley's entrance, the bright blades in their hands gleaming like cold frost.

He An looked at the high walls on either side and sighed inwardly. In a low voice, he told Han Chanjuan, "In a moment, run as soon as you get a chance. I'll hold them off!"

Han Chanjuan glanced at the black-clad men at the alley entrance and wrinkled her delicate nose. "I won't! We share our blessings and face our troubles together. I can't leave you behind!" Instead, she took two steps forward and stood in front of He An, like a little she-cat baring her teeth and claws.

He An did not know whether to laugh or cry. He caught her arm and was about to speak when a piercing laugh, like the cry of a night owl, suddenly rang out overhead.

"You little brat! Today is the day you die!" A brown-clad figure floated down from the high wall.

"You?"

When he saw the newcomer's face clearly, He An turned deathly pale.