Chapter 42#

The Sage Ruler Let Pei Dan Go.#

It was nearly noon when Pei Dan and his servants arrived at a small pond, where they ate a simple meal of dried rations. The servants teased Pei Dan about the silly little rabbit in his arms that didn’t know how to escape, but the rabbit seemed to understand human words and buried its entire head away. Pei Dan could only pat it.

The young master was in a foul mood, and the servants could all see it. No one dared disturb him further. In the afternoon, Pei Dan found a patch of withered grass and lay on his back staring up at the sky. The little wild rabbit once again poked its head out of his pocket, sneaky as ever.

It stretched out its soft tongue and licked his chin.

Pei Dan furrowed his brows and glared at it. “What do you mean by that?”

The little wild rabbit not only licked him but also rubbed its wet, glistening nose against his neck.

Pei Dan found it truly laughable—twenty-five years of living, and now he needed a small beast to comfort him. He cupped both hands around the silly rabbit’s front paws and held it up in the air, saying sternly, “Are you sympathizing with me?”

The little wild rabbit kicked its uninjured hind leg straight back, its large paw smacking against his chest with a pat, as if provoking him.

Pei Dan: …

The rabbit’s fur, though drably colored, was sleek and glossy. As he absently stroked it, he suddenly recalled the mother rabbit from beneath the small pavilion earlier. She had seemed grey as well.

He abruptly fixed his gaze on the rabbit in his hands, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. A moment later, he relaxed and laughed at himself for being absurd.

Such a coincidence couldn’t possibly exist in this world. And besides, even if the dead rabbit really had been this little creature’s mother, so what?

He smiled and asked the little rabbit, “Can you recite The Stag’s Hooves?”

The little wild rabbit gave him a lazy glance, as though it thought he was an idiot.

Pei Dan slowly sat up. The rabbit’s two front paws rested on his bent knees, its claws scratch-scratch-scratching at the embroidery along the hem of his armor. He curled his lip and barked, “Put those claws away!”

The rabbit ignored him, gazing off distractedly in some other direction.

Pei Dan thought, So the one who puts on a fierce face while being soft inside is me.

Just then, a nearby servant screamed: “Young master—!” Before Pei Dan could react, a grey-black horned hawk came diving swiftly through the air overhead. Its wings churned up the wind of the entire grove, slamming Pei Dan violently to the ground! Then it formed a taloned grasp with both claws, scooped up the little wild rabbit, and with a mighty beat of its wings, shot straight up into the sky!

Pei Dan’s upper body was slammed back against the rocks behind him. A sharp pain bloomed in the back of his head, but he had no time to worry about that. He pursed his lips and whistled for his horse, letting out a fierce “Giddyup!” before racing into the mountains after the hawk.

Deep in the mountains, the path wound like a sheep’s gut. A savage wind whipped past, cutting across his face like countless blades. The horse Pei Dan rode was a warhorse of the Northern Army, fierce and peerless. It leaped and bounded between boulders and streams with ease. He gripped the reins in a death hold, his gaze locked without a single blink on the dark shape circling in the sky.

When the hawk swooped lower, he finally spotted his chance. He slowed his horse, drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and raised his arm to aim skyward—

The iron arrow tore through the air with a sharp whoosh, seeming to pierce the hawk’s wing. The bird let out a long cry of pain, then abruptly banked upward. Its claws released, and the wild rabbit plummeted down through the trees.

Pei Dan’s heart lurched. There was no time to ride. He dismounted and threw himself rolling across the grass, catching the rabbit just in time.

The ground was strewn with loose stones and patches of snow. The back of his head struck something unseen, and a fresh wave of pain flared. But when he looked down, the little wild rabbit seemed to have been knocked senseless from the fall—eyes shut tight, all four legs dangling limply as it lay crookedly against his chest, and the bandaged leg had begun bleeding again.

A sudden wave of bewilderment washed over him. What am I doing? Nearly throwing away my life for a heartless little beast.

He staggered to his feet with the rabbit clutched to his chest. Looking around, there was nothing familiar to be seen, no sound of human beings anywhere. The mountains grew dark early. He thought he had only been galloping for a short while, but the sun had already tilted west, its light turning the residual snow among the trees a shimmering gold. Occasionally a bird fluttered past, shaking loose a gust of cold, dry wind.

“A fine trouble you are,” he muttered at the little rabbit.

But the rabbit settled comfortably into his arms as though it had every right to be there. He fumbled to pull it out. “There’s blood, you little beast!” He re-bandaged the leg first, then went to fetch his horse.

The forests to the east, west, north, and south all looked much the same, but on closer inspection, the terrain to the north was lower, with less snow on the ground. Thinking that the imperial residence lay beyond Embroidered Ridge to the north, heading due north could hardly be wrong. Pei Dan mounted again.

After riding for roughly half an hour, the slanting sun had already half sunk behind the western mountains. A mist seemed to be rising among the trees.

He knew this kind of mist. His own great estate had a small hot spring pool in its backyard, where the warm water naturally produced clouds of vaporous haze. This might well be some hidden wild hot spring somewhere in the imperial hunting grounds. Spending the night near a hot spring would surely be more comfortable than on the cold mountain.

After walking another quarter-hour or so, the mist grew thicker. Warm, damp air pressed against his face, almost condensing into streams of water in midair. He was getting hungry and dizzy. Dazedly, he dismounted and let the horse graze, groping his way in the direction of the hot spring. But a shrill ape cry pierced past his ear, the sun plunged suddenly into a deep ravine, and the world went dark.

The little wild rabbit chirped twice against his chest.

When he had first been grabbed, it had shrieked like a demon. Now it had turned into a sweet, clinging little bird. Truly a fair-weather friend.

But with this silly rabbit for company, he was at least a little less alone. He touched the rabbit’s black-tipped ear. His steps grew heavier and heavier, as though countless sparks were spinning around his head.

Am I dizzy from hunger? How ridiculous. He turned, wanting to go back to his horse and rest. But walking back and forth felt like being trapped by a ghost wall—dark night, mountain forest, clouds and mist concealing everything. A headache set in, and a chill crept through his body. He couldn’t see the path underfoot, and then, suddenly, he toppled backward onto the ground.

Before his eyes, a patch of blood slowly bloomed, only to be trampled over at once by an endless tide of war chariots and armored cavalry.

A figure looked back at him from amidst the crimson.

But he could not find his voice to cry out.

Of the sixteen hot springs excavated near the imperial residence, all were reserved for the use of nobles. Feng Bing had no wish to visit them, so instead he followed the local old men through the mountains in search of wild springs. The old men, all of them well past eighty, were hale and vigorous—calling it “searching for hot springs” was really more like calling it mountain climbing. After walking for the better part of the afternoon, it was Feng Bing, the young man, who grew exhausted first.

He told the old men to go on ahead. He drank some water, ate some dried rations, and rested a while. But when he got up to continue, he found he had lost the road.

He blindly tried to “go back,” walked for a long stretch, and then realized it didn’t seem to be the way back after all. The sun was in the west, but he had no idea which side the imperial residence lay on. Perhaps it was dumb luck on his part—after the sun sank behind the mountains, a curling wisp of steam rose not far ahead. He remembered what the old men had said, realized it must be a hot spring, and felt his spirits lift. He strode purposefully toward it.

The forest was pitch-black. Only the residual snow reflected a faint, pale light. Suddenly he heard a horse neigh and was overjoyed, rushing forward—only to see a dark, glossy warhorse lowering its neck, nudging urgently at an unconscious figure on the ground with its big head.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. The person on the ground must be another fool who had gotten lost, just like him.

Feng Bing couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment. He walked closer, crouched down, and was about to wake the person—but froze when he saw the person’s face clearly.

A wild rabbit suddenly burst out from somewhere unknown and sank its teeth viciously into his sleeve.