Chapter 26: You Are Not Song Ruozhao

Judging at the fastest possible speed, there was no way to determine which of the four was the target, Chen Yan.

The enemy soldiers looked at one another with bewildered expressions, as if the words "Who is Chen Yan?" were written across their faces. The four "water ghosts" had scattered in four different directions, leaving the enemy standing at a crossroads, unable to decide where to pursue, arguing incessantly among themselves.

They could not see what was above their heads—Chen Yan was pressed heavily against a branch as thick as a human thigh, his body pricked by dense, thorny twigs. The branch was bearing a burden it was never meant to hold; if a tree could have thoughts, it would surely resolve to go on a diet after this ordeal. Chen Yan couldn't tell who was in more pain: himself, or the branch that was on the verge of snapping.

Watching the group below squabble over him until they nearly came to blows, a foul stench swirled through the forest. To avoid alerting them, the "Saliva Chicken" had been holding its breath, its rear tucked tight—as the saying goes, silent farts are the deadliest—until the men below were finally driven away by the odor, at which point it could finally release a sigh of relief.

After a long while, "Fang" and "Yuan" shed their water-ghost disguises and returned with the air of victors. "You thought you were the only ones who could use a diversion? Our boss can do it too!"

"Wait, where is Song Ji... Lady Song? Oh, where is the Second Lady Song?" Gouya’s tone took a sharp turn, shifting seamlessly. He knew that if anyone were to persistently ask why Song Ji had been cross-dressing as a woman, he would inevitably let something slip, and his master might lose face entirely.

With the scattered group reassembled, everyone was present except for the Second Lady of the Song family. The third and fourth sisters looked up, seeing the Saliva Chicken—usually only concerned with eating and excreting—in a rare state of panic. It was so desperate that when its most vibrant crimson feather caught on a branch, it chose to leave it behind rather than lose a moment’s time. The sisters’ breath hitched, a sense of foreboding making their eyelids twitch.

"Night is falling, and the mountains are full of tigers and wolves," the fourth sister said.

Gouya listened, seeing his master set off toward the tiger-infested mountains, knowing full well the danger that lay ahead. The fourth sister was puzzled: "How can he be so certain she is deep in the forest? He doesn’t even look back, his pace so resolute."

Gouya prepared to quip, "My master’s head is just wired differently than everyone else’s," but Xu Chi'an stepped in first, his concern thoughtful. "The two Lady Songs may not know this, but my master is stubborn and contemplative. Though his actions may seem reckless, he is always planning ahead, often eliminating many potential threats before they arise."

A breeze swept through the forest, and a wild, oversized sprig of coriander swayed violently, standing out in the desolate deep mountains as if desperate for everyone’s attention.

Gouya reached out, touching the thin, verdant leaves, and held them up to his head. "Master, look! There’s a giant coriander plant here."

Lord Liu listened, but his footsteps never faltered. He reached out to trace the stem and found a strip of silk with a cotton-flower pattern wrapped around it. He slowly unfolded it to reveal a line of writing done in eyebrow pencil. Gouya, who knew few characters, showed no interest and let it flutter away in the wind, hurrying to catch up with his master.

...

It was not only Liu Wenxu who was heading toward the tiger’s den.

Song Ruozhao wondered if they would even see the note she left behind. But with that standout among coriander plants to guide them, things might be different. With this thought, she spurred her horse forward with renewed vigor. Leaving behind the rigid structure of Chang'an, the vast beauty of the landscape began to take shape in her eyes.

In the distance, the winding Qinling mountain range lay like a coiled, slumbering spirit dragon. As her horse galloped like a shooting star, the setting sun slanted across the ridges, making the dragon appear as if it were opening its eyes to gaze down upon the fractured, divided land.

The magnificent spectacle of the Qinling mountains made Song Ruozhao feel like a mere grain of sand in the vast expanse. She knew she might not be able to change everything, but she could at least bring something to light. For instance, what was the truth behind the death of the real Song Ruozhao?

Sharing the same name and even the same exquisite, beautiful features was a twist of fate. She was lucky, in a way; though she had usurped the original's place, her presence at least gave the original owner—who had little intelligence to begin with—a rare sense of value.

The wind whistled past her ears. She was a hurried traveler with no clear destination, much like the real Song Ruozhao—where had she actually gone?

According to what Chen Yan had said, the village at the foot of the Qinling mountains, where the contact who wanted Song Ruozhao dead resided, was her intended destination. Since her third sister had sensed something was wrong, she had to provide an answer.

The road stretched into the distance, with only the occasional mountain dweller returning with firewood. Only when she reached a village that matched Chen Yan's description did Song Ruozhao dismount and ask, "Old man, have any strangers been seen around this village?"

The old man, carrying a load of dry firewood, kept most of his face hidden in the shadow of a wide-brimmed bamboo hat. He didn't speak, simply pointing toward a small cottage with red walls and dark tiles at the foot of the mountain.

As Song Ruozhao prepared to ask more, a group of five or six-year-old children ran up, chanting a mocking nursery rhyme:

"Old man of wood is mute and deaf, he picked a red ball, the water is deep!"

"The red ball cannot be kicked, the red ball cannot be patted, it grows from the dirt, waiting to be plucked!"

...

As the rhyme echoed, the children defiantly scattered the firewood the old man had worked so hard to collect.

Song Ruozhao cleared her throat and said coldly, "If you don't stack this firewood back exactly as it was, I will have your tutor make you copy the 'Thousand Character Classic' a hundred times, and I’ll cancel your holiday leave for the Dragon Boat Festival."

A few words were all it took to strike at their vulnerabilities. The children turned back, looking as if they had seen a second tutor, and used their seven or eight hands to clumsily stack the wood back together.

Looking into the clear eyes of the children, she saw a mix of innocence and excitement over the strange events that had recently occurred in the village. As the group of children drifted away, only one tall, sturdy boy with a sun-darkened face remained, staring at her.

"I saw someone with a face exactly like yours," the boy said after a moment’s hesitation, unable to keep the secret. "The difference is, you have a body, but that head... does not."

The chilling words made her skin crawl. Song Ruozhao thought of the headless female corpse in the city; the river flowing through the Qinling mountains certainly connected to the main canal in Chang'an.

"Where?"

He pointed toward the cottage at the foot of the mountain. It was the same one with the red walls and dark tiles the old wood-gatherer had indicated.

A trace of panic clouded the boy's eyes. "That’s a City God Temple. Because no one goes there to make offerings, the adults say the gods are angry. Ever since the Qingming Festival passed, there have been ghosts causing trouble there."

Sensing something was amiss, Song Ruozhao looked up, but the deaf and mute wood-gatherer had already vanished into the thicket.

Song Ruozhao asked, "Does the legendary female ghost have a history?"

"That headless ghost? I heard she came from..." The boy’s eyes darted around, and he suddenly held out his palm. "Give me twenty copper coins, and I’ll sleep in the City God Temple tonight and ask for you!"

He was already planning how to swindle her, his chin lifted with the stubborn pride of someone earning his keep.

Song Ruozhao: "..."

"I can earn those twenty copper coins myself—"