Chapter 44#

Beneath the night, the tiger’s form was slender, crouched in the grass some ten feet long, like a silently breathing mountain peak. Its chin was warily lifted slightly, its whiskers twitching, and a thin, sharp golden line flickered in its eyes as it fixed a scrutinizing stare on Fengbing.#

Fengbing faced it without moving in the slightest.

In Laozhou, he had heard how to deal with tigers. Running was naturally the first rule: before a tiger noticed you, the faster and farther you ran, the better; but if it had already noticed you, you must not turn and lower your head to expose an opening. You had to face it and keep backing away—then seize a chance to flee.

But Fengbing had already retreated as far as he could. Behind him were Pei Dan, unconscious from a head injury, and a lame wild rabbit.

The horse was gone. He remembered there were iron arrows by Pei Dan’s saddle; if it came to the worst, he could have used them to defend himself. As for whether Pei Dan carried a weapon, he had never checked. Now there was no time to check.

The fierce beast opposite seemed very cautious—or perhaps merely not yet hungry. It faced off with Fengbing, quiet and taut all over, ready at any moment to seize an opportunity and pounce. Fengbing knew he could not give it such a chance. Silently, he grabbed a handful of sand and stones from the ground. Though he was not sure whether they would be of any use, he clenched them tightly regardless; these fragments were his last weapon.

The silver moon above the mountain forest was hidden by dark clouds. This place did not seem at all like the imperial family’s familiar forbidden hunting grounds; perhaps it was simply a long-forgotten corner of heaven and earth. Not even a wind stirred around them, yet he seemed able to hear the low, suppressed breathing of all things. Surrounded by living beings, lonely him and a fierce beast were sizing each other up, waiting for each other, putting on a show, staking everything on one throw.

He felt the cold of deep night; perhaps his lips had turned purple from it, yet sweat streamed down his body. A clear, sticky sensation slid across his back.

It was not that he had never thought of giving up—as he stared and stared, his vision began to blur, so much so that he thought of the story of Li Guang shooting the tiger. For a moment, he even wondered whether the one before him might also be merely a lifelike stone, shaped by nature specifically to frighten him; but soon he met the tiger’s pair of cold golden eyes, and the tiger silently opened its mouth.

Fengbing’s face went pale.

Hope shattered: this was a real tiger, not a stone. Inside its great maw, its fangs were sharp, and greedy saliva hung from the tips of its teeth.

If he died in the tiger’s jaws today, he did not know whether Pei Dan could still survive. —At that thought, he was startled again.

Had the tiger noticed Pei Dan? Surely not yet. Otherwise, if it knew he had such a great burden with him, it would certainly have pounced already. Slowly, without betraying any emotion, Fengbing shifted forward a little, hoping this way to completely block the tiger’s line of sight.

No matter what, he could not let Pei Dan die so muddled and inexplicably.

Suddenly a great wind swept low, striking a chilling echo through the mountain forest. The tiger seemed startled; it raised its head slightly and listened coldly for a moment. In that moment, Fengbing nearly ground his teeth to pieces. Then the tiger turned sideways and, staring at Fengbing, took several steps around him.

The tiger’s tail swept through the grass, rustle, rustle, and the beast’s ruthless gaze fell on Fengbing. Every hair on Fengbing’s body stood on end. Listening to the tiger’s extremely light footsteps, he saw stripe after stripe clinging to its powerful bones, like waves rising and falling with the wind. But then it suddenly sped up, its body leaping, and ran off into the distance—

and soon vanished from Fengbing’s sight.

Fengbing suddenly let out a breath, but his body remained stiff. He should have immediately looked around, yet for a moment he could not even stand up. The great wind blew against him too, cooling him all over; it turned out his back was already covered in cold sweat.

He swayed and fell backward, but heard the metallic clatter of something hitting the ground. A moment later, he was caught in an embrace: “Li—” The voice stopped as if unsure how to address him, low and hoarse, but clear.

A little wild rabbit desperately squeezed out from the gap between the two of them, squeaking.

Fengbing turned his head. Pei Dan held him without speaking, and cold sweat also slid down the side of his face; beside them lay a dagger that had fallen into the mud. Shocked, Fengbing realized, “When did you wake up?”

Pei Dan said, “When the horse ran off.”

All the fear from before scattered in an instant like an illusion. In Pei Dan’s gaze fixed on him was also an extreme, taut terror, and from it Fengbing confirmed the fact that he was still alive. Overcome by surging emotion, Fengbing’s eyes reddened, and he immediately turned his head away.

Had Pei Dan also been watching that tiger together with him just now?

Behind him, poised to strike, covered in wounds, staring at that strange beast as if born from the night?

For a moment or two, he was sunk in Pei Dan’s embrace, his hands and feet cold, clutching his lapels, dazed, thinking nothing at all, not even moving an inch. But soon his emotions calmed, and he realized his loss of composure. With a burst of willpower, he stiffly sat up straight, and Pei Dan did not take advantage of it to mock him.

“Just now, you didn’t move rashly, did you?” Fengbing spoke slowly. In truth, he was very clear that Pei Dan had not moved, but he needed this topic. “The tiger has gone, but we need to move somewhere else.”

“All right.” Pei Dan answered hoarsely. He seemed utterly exhausted as well, and carefully drew back. “You… are you all right? How did you come to be here?”

Although Fengbing had just treated him with practiced ease, at this moment a sense of distance arose. The sand and stones in his palm were about to be crushed by his grip. He said softly, “I got lost.”

Pei Dan had not expected such an answer. He froze for a moment, then could not help but smile.

Fengbing was stunned, and immediately his face flushed red.

Pei Dan said, “When the Son of Heaven hunts, he leaves one side of the net open. With you getting lost like this, you actually walked into the hunting grounds yourself.” His voice held a somewhat helpless sigh, and also seemed to carry a trace of grateful relief. “But if I hadn’t met you, I would already have left my corpse in the wilderness.”

Fengbing glared at him angrily, only to see him smiling as if completely relaxed, his light voice like moonlight dancing on a small stream, and even the look in his eyes suddenly gentle and soft.

“Thank you,” Pei Dan said gently.

Fengbing was startled. Then he noticed that on the cloth bandaging Pei Dan’s head and face, there were still orchids subtly embroidered in silver thread.

It was his own undergarment.

He had wrapped Top Scholar Pei’s head twice around, until even his hair was almost hidden. No wonder he had wrapped him into a fool.

At this thought, Fengbing felt a little more at ease. Doing his utmost to dismiss his embarrassment, he said, “You’re still laughing at me—then why were you injured?”

Pei Dan sat with bent knees, one hand propping up his head, gazing at him.

“To save a wild rabbit.”

Fengbing looked speechlessly at the rabbit. He had likewise not expected Pei Dan’s answer. Where had this little creature come from, to have such incredible ability?

But the little wild rabbit paid them no mind. It lay in the grass by the burrow entrance now that the danger had passed, happily rolling around a few times.

Tiger: Is it easy to hunt at night? Why did you have to let me see such a little couple?

If you really encounter a tiger, you can’t sit there like Fengbing. He sat to protect Pei Dan behind him—there was no other way…