Chapter Fifty-Seven: A Subtle Stratagem

The string of arrows from the bow flashed like lightning, slicing through the air and carrying a fierce gust toward the rider atop the horse.

The white horse suddenly leapt to the right, narrowly dodging the deadly shaft. The arrow grazed Qingyun’s shoulder as it flew past.

Sikong felt his vision blur; the horse and rider vanished from sight. It was as if, with that leap, they had entered another realm, disappearing inexplicably from the plain.

He pulled on the reins, the red hooves of his mount stamping circles in place. Sikong looked about and unexpectedly discovered a narrow, downward path by the roadside, obscured by wild grass and exceedingly secluded. Following the path, he heard the gentle murmur of flowing water.

Without hesitation, he urged his horse down the trail. The hooves slid on loose soil, following the collapsed earth and stones, and the wind nearly tossed him from the saddle.

He quickly dismounted, gently stroked Windchaser’s broad head, and inspected its hooves—thankfully, they were uninjured. Since Windchaser was unharmed, the most urgent task was to find Qingyun and Kaiming.

Sikong raised his head and surveyed the surroundings, and the scene before him left him bewildered. Fresh from the blood-soaked battlefield, he could hardly adjust to such peaceful rural beauty. The flat, sandy riverbank, heaps of smooth pebbles, quietly flowing water, the delicate splashes against polished rocks producing cheerful, pleasant sounds.

He was momentarily dazed, imagining himself a farmer, standing amidst boundless beauty, living a simple, repetitive, ordinary life.

Windchaser suddenly neighed, pulling him back from his reverie. How laughable—he was a pure-blooded warrior of the Nangong clan; how could he indulge in such fanciful thoughts?

The urgent task remained: finding Qingyun.

A line of hoofprints and two sets of footprints meandered from the shore into the river, then vanished. Sikong crouched by the water, staring at its surface with a furrowed brow. Cunning fellows—once they entered the water, it was impossible to predict where they would emerge.

Gradually, more soldiers arrived, gathering behind him. Sikong straightened and issued orders: “One squad, search along the banks. The other, cross the river and check the opposite side.”

The soldiers dispersed at his command.

Only Qingyun’s personal guards remained close. “Commander, I don’t understand why the strategist would act so rashly. He must have been taken hostage! Please, rescue him!”

Sikong replied coolly, “A man as clever as the strategist—how many in the world could take him hostage?”

“But if it was someone close to him, he wouldn’t be on guard. Perhaps an accident has happened,” the guard protested, unwilling to give up defending Qingyun despite knowing their strained relationship.

“I understand,” Sikong said, not kicking when down. “Whether voluntary or forced, the most important thing is to find the strategist first.”

The guard nodded gravely. Yes, whatever has happened, finding Qingyun is paramount. Ever since that troublesome female soldier was brought back, the strategist had been acting quite strangely.

All her fault! The guard clenched his fists.

Upstream, Qingyun and Kaiming were wading laboriously through the water. The white horse stumbled behind, picking its way over uneven stones.

“I say—” With a splash, she slipped again, plunging into the river. Luckily, the current was not strong; she quickly stood up, but her clothes were soaked. She glared at her drenched attire, annoyed. “Why must we walk in the water? Wouldn’t crossing to the opposite bank be easier?”

“We can’t leave tracks to be followed,” Qingyun replied, his hem soaked as well. He carefully lifted it, holding the white horse’s reins, probing the water’s depth with his toes. “As long as we go upstream in the water, they’ll have a hard time tracking us.”

“But this is so slow—won’t the pursuers catch up from the banks?” she complained.

“That’s true.” Qingyun’s eyes focused ahead, where a line of water grasses stretched from the river into the sandbank. “It’s time to get ashore.”

He stepped carefully onto the thick water grasses, which left footprints that bounced back when shaken. Qingyun had Kaiming lead the horse onto the bank, waiting by the forest’s edge. He found some soft branches and walked to the sandbank.

Kaiming watched him curiously.

Qingyun reached the sandy riverbank and, walking backwards toward the forest, bent low and used the branches to sweep away their scattered footprints in the sand. Sweeping as he retreated, he continued until he reached the grassy spot where she stood.

“It’s done.” He straightened, tossed the branches aside, and sighed in relief.

Kaiming smiled at him, “Sweeping away tracks by walking backwards? That’s clever—you really think of everything.”

“I make my living by such skills,” he replied, brushing the dust from his hands and smiling back. “It’s nearly midday; Sikong must be anxious. Let’s hide in the woods for a while.”

Kaiming laughed even more merrily, “How can Sikong hope to match wits with you, Qingyun? He’s overestimating himself.”

Qingyun glanced at her, “Don’t you often challenge me, too?”

She clapped her palm, recalling something, and leaned close, “Honestly, if you hadn’t suddenly changed sides, I wouldn’t want you as an opponent.”

Qingyun smiled faintly, “What do you mean, ‘changed sides’? Besides, isn’t it good to have a rival like me?”

“Too frightening,” she concluded, smiling at him without a trace of defense.

Qingyun looked at her, lazy sunlight filtered through the trees, casting mottled shadows on her face. With that smile, he was momentarily lost.

He reached out and tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her skin, a ticklish feeling stirring deep within him. Kaiming’s brows arched.

“You’re soaked,” he said calmly. “Let’s find a place to dry our clothes.”

Her brows arched higher, eyes already alert.

A jumble of footsteps approached, and several figures emerged from the woods. The two were caught off guard, running right into them.

“Who are you?” The newcomers stared at them in surprise.

They looked back nervously, but seeing the others’ attire, their anxiety faded. It was two or three villagers carrying fishing gear, sun-darkened, sleeves rolled, barefoot, regarding them with puzzled eyes.

Kaiming was momentarily lost, unsure how to respond. Qingyun stepped forward, shielding her, and bowed with a smile. “Thank you, brothers. My sister and I are enchanted by the scenery and lost our way. We wish to sail downstream for leisure. Could you point us in the right direction?”

The villagers laughed heartily, “We’re fishermen heading downstream. You’re welcome to join us.”

Qingyun hurriedly replied, “Thank you for your kindness, but the scenery here is so lovely we haven’t had our fill. Just directions will do.”

“Very well!” They pointed out the way and kindly reminded, “Your clothes are soaked—don’t forget to go home early.”

Qingyun thanked them, and the three moved on. Kaiming smiled at him, “Brother and sister? Where do you see I’m younger than you?”

Qingyun replied offhandedly, “With your childish manner, how could you be anyone’s elder?”

“That’s just appearances!” she jumped as if bitten by a snake. “You’re just prematurely mature—by age, I might have to call you uncle!”

“Is that so?” He hooked her chin playfully, smiling, “No matter how you look at it, you’re made for the younger sibling role.”

“Scoundrel!” Kaiming slapped his hand away, glaring. “No respect for your elders!”

Qingyun laughed and stopped teasing her, grabbing her wrist to lead her forward.

“Are we really going downstream?” she called.

“Of course not,” he replied without turning, forging ahead. She was baffled; this man’s actions were always unusual—who knew what he was planning now?

They soon encountered a woodcutter, swinging his axe at a tree. “Such a lively little forest,” Qingyun remarked, letting go of her hand and approaching the woodcutter.

She stood dumbly, unsure of his intention.

“Brother, may I ask the way to the downstream?” Qingyun repeated his question, and the woodcutter helpfully pointed out the direction. Qingyun thanked him and returned.

“What are you up to? Why keep asking about downstream?” Kaiming was full of suspicion.

Qingyun smiled mysteriously, “You’ll see soon enough.” He led her deeper into the woods.

Sikong stood on the riverbank, squads of soldiers reporting back in turn.

“Commander, no sign of the strategist along either bank.”

“Commander, three fishermen said someone asked them for the way downstream.”

“Commander, a woodcutter in the forest said a man and woman asked about downstream.”

“Downstream?” Sikong frowned and ordered, “Cease searching here. Everyone, head downstream!”

They were about to move when a stumbling soldier rushed up the road, scrambling through the mud, shouting, “Commander! Commander! A message from the general!”

“No need. I’ll return once the fugitives are caught!” Sikong cut him off coldly.

“But the general said the army is moving on. If we delay—”

“Military law, yes, I know. Tell the general: I’ll return when I’ve captured Qingyun, the traitor.”

“But—”

“Go!”

The soldier, afraid to speak more, scrambled up the bank, mounted his horse, and rode away.

Meanwhile, Qingyun had found a sun-warmed boulder, spreading his wet clothes on it to dry, turning them over repeatedly.

Kaiming did the same, removing only her outer garment. Though her inner clothes were soaked and clinging, she didn’t mind.

“What a pity,” she said, holding up her wet old cloth bag; the hard-earned cold rice inside had turned to mush, water dripping from the bag.

“Throw that thing away,” Qingyun said with distaste, glancing at her. “Why carry something so disgusting?”

She glared at him, eyes blazing. “You don’t understand! It’s a token of comradeship—a witness to life and death!”

“Nonsense,” Qingyun was unmoved. “Don’t eat such mush. If you’re hungry, pick some wild fruit.”

She rolled her eyes. “How can you be so sure Sikong won’t search here? And so leisurely drying clothes?”

“Of course,” he replied, flipping his clothes again and testing their warmth, “everyone has confirmed that we’re heading downstream. Sikong will rush there in a panic, leaving this place unchecked.”

Kaiming’s eyes lit up, grinning, “So all those actions were to mislead Sikong?”

Qingyun smiled, “At least it bought us time.”

“Why not seize the chance to escape?” she tilted her head, not quite understanding.

“All escape plans are for nightfall; don’t you know?” He focused on his clothes, treating her as air. “If we bump into a patrol in broad daylight, all will be lost.”

She coughed, stung by his remark. “The title ‘fox’ should belong to you!”

Qingyun looked up, his smile bright as sunlight. “I don’t mind being called a fox.”