110 - Crazy! Criticizing the Prime Minister for Being a Servant

Chapter 110: Unbroken (4) Ning Song Wu felt that entering this illusion took particularly long this time, most likely because it was her second visit to the palace. 【I don't really want to enter an illusion again. Can't this be conveyed directly to me?】 【Why are we jumping straight to the first part? Wait, whose perspective is this?】 【My master... had white hair so early?】 【Wait, wait, I didn't catch the first part! Xiao Wan Cheng!! What's with your timing for interruptions!】 【...Well done, Xiao...】 "Chicken soup?" Ning Song Wu gazed at the bowl of chicken soup, its surface covered with a layer of yellow oil, her brow furrowed in thought. "The soup was sent by Father, and it's a nourishing concoction. Wu Lang, you're weak, you should drink more and not let Father's goodwill go to waste." A fleeting cold smile crossed Ran Fan Yin's lips, hinting that this bowl of chicken soup was not as ordinary as it seemed. "Drinking such a rich soup at night can't be good for one's health." Although she reached out to take the bowl, Ning Song Wu was filled with reluctance and couldn't help but wonder whether this supposedly nourishing soup might actually be harmful. "Chicken soup is warming and will strengthen your frail condition. Drinking it will be beneficial for your health." With an earnest nod, Ran Fan Yin urged her to drink. With a frown, Ning Song Wu consumed the soup in one gulp. Well, it was Father's goodwill, after all. She figured it might be an attempt to quickly have a grandchild. Seeing Ning Song Wu finish the soup, Ran Fan Yin urged, "Wu Lang, it's late, we should rest." "Alright, alright—" At this moment, Ning Song Wu's mind buzzed. She felt weak all over, her legs wobbly, struggling to walk, clutching her head, she staggered to the bed, her vision went dark, and cold sweat broke out all over her body until she collapsed helplessly onto the bed. Just before losing consciousness, she murmured, "The nourishing power of chicken soup is indeed overwhelming—" * In the quiet night of the Prefecture, only the subdued murmurs of the Grand Commander and his wife echoed along the lamp-lit cobblestone pathway. As Ning Jing Yang walked, he spoke, "My dear wife, the Empress Dowager's health is deteriorating. His Majesty has ordered me to go to Yongzhou to invite the divine healer Hua Tuo to the capital for her treatment. I shall depart tomorrow. You must discipline Wu Er well. It is up to him to carry forward our family estate in the future. You have my gratitude for your hard work during this time." Zhou Hua Xiu, understanding, replied, "Where are such words from Yang Lang? This is my duty as a wife. Although Wu Er might not be mature, his intentions are good. I will heed your advice and teach him well, so as not to disappoint you. Your journey to Yongzhou is far, and the mission concerns the Empress Dowager’s safety, take utmost care." "My dear wife, fear not, once I safely reach the capital, I shall send home letters. As for Wu Er, he must strive to enrich our Sima household." "Certainly, what Yang Lang desires, I also hope. But such matters can't be forced. Destiny will provide what is due." Zhou Hua Xiu said this, knowing deep down she felt uneasy. "It is rare for me to not have a grandchild at my age. Wu Er is too physically weak, so I've instructed that chicken soup be prepared for him every night to restore his health." Ning Jing Yang held a patriarchal bias, disregarding his five daughters, all of whom were married and had children. To him, grandchildren from daughters were not considered true heirs. "The daughters in our family should also be matched with suitable families. Some days ago, Lord Chai mentioned his second son is of similar age to our Yan Er..." Having settled Ning Song Wu's concerns, Ning Jing Yang began to ponder over the marriages of his other daughters. "In matters of marrying the son and daughter, however, this requires thorough discussion with Yan Er's birth mother, given her temper," Zhou Hua Xiu refrained from getting involved. Zhou Hua Xiu thought it wise not to venture into troubled waters. That fiery-tempered lady would indeed ensure chaos if her daughter’s suitor displeased her, given she never respected Zhou Hua Xiu as the lady of the family. Ning Jing Yang, however, insisted, "As the lady of Sima Manor, there is nothing you should shy away from addressing. I'll speak with her. For now, we should not linger in Chongzhou. On my return to the capital, I shall find an opportunity to petition His Majesty to grant Wu Er a post in the capital." * “Lady, you may leave, but this—this scroll must remain,” Ning Song Wu hastened to catch up, noticing that the four of them seemed ready to act. She hurriedly ran to stand before Ran Fan Yin, breathing heavily. Wen Xiang replied, “Sir, take a moment, catch your breath before speaking.” “What if I refuse?” Ran Fan Yin spoke loudly, turning his head slightly to the left while observing the others surreptitiously, seemingly assessing their intentions. “They're preparing to attack. Did you bring the lime powder?” Ran Fan Yin quietly asked, discreetly slipping a packet to Wen Xiang: “Hold onto this, if things get bad, toss it in their faces.” “Yes, I did. Hand me the scroll, I'll create a diversion. You and Wen Xiang should follow the chart, use this fish token to request reinforcements at Pingyang County, near Zhan Prefecture,” Ning Song Wu whispered urgently, reaching for the scroll on Ran Fan Yin's person. “Well, isn’t this a surprise. I've developed a fondness for this scroll. I'm afraid I can't return it.” Ran Fan Yin declared loudly, clutching the scroll tighter as the two engaged in a feigned struggle. The moonlight scattered across the bamboo grove, casting light on the ground while the chilling night breeze carried a hint of danger. Suddenly, a fierce wind swirled dry bamboo leaves off the ground, and the hurried footsteps grew closer. Before long, four agile men wielding sharp swords emerged into view. “Hand over the scroll willingly, and you will be spared,” The Scarred Masked Man’s voice was firm. “Who are you? Who do you work for?” Ning Song Wu instinctively extended her right hand to position Ran Fan Yin behind her, while Wen Xiang, gripping Ran Fan Yin's sleeve, followed her lead to stay shielded by Ning Song Wu. “No need to worry, I'm with you, don’t be frightened.” Ning Song Wu reassured them, gently patting Ran Fan Yin’s hand clutching her arm, as she softly comforted him. Despite being a woman, she remained composed, showing confidence under pressure, a person of kindness and bravery despite her lack of physical strength. Looking into Ning Song Wu’s steady gaze—her single eyelid making her eyes appear resolute—Wen Xiang couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration; perhaps single eyelids weren't so unattractive after all. Observing how Ning Song Wu protected both her and her lady, Wen Xiang felt deeply moved. Her miss indeed made a wise choice in marriage. “Do not fear, my lady. With Sir here, we shall be alright. I will also protect you,” Wen Xiang assured. “Hand over the scroll, this sword knows no mercy,” the masked man brandished his weapon threateningly. Ning Song Wu slightly turned her head, squinting to avoid the reflection of the cold steel in the moonlight. “Attacking a court official, where did you find such audacity?” Ning Song Wu rebuked. “Even if the emperor himself were here, it wouldn’t deter us,” the Scarred Man retorted dismissively. “When I give the word, run in different directions. I’ll head west, while you go east. Wait for me at Pingyang County’s authorities, and give me the scroll.” Ning Song Wu instructed quietly, extending her hand backward. “Feign being overwhelmed and claim they snatched a fake scroll kept at the inn,” Ran Fan Yin handed a bundle to Ning Song Wu. “Ensure your safety, deploy the lime powder when they are close, aim for their eyes, and remember to hold your breath when you release it, as it’s quite suffocating. This should give us ample time to flee.” Ran Fan Yin advised in a whisper. “And survive; Wen Xiang and I will await you in Pingyang County.” Ran Fan Yin stood on tiptoe, whispering into Ning Song Wu's ear. Ning Song Wu, you must survive; I don’t wish to be a widow at such a young age. After all, you promised to divorce me when the time was right. "Facing death, you're still flirting. You indeed have good fortune, boy, but unfortunately, it won’t last,” The Short Masked Man mocked. "Attack! Retrieve the scroll at any cost," the Scarred Man commanded. "Run!" Ning Song Wu shouted as she brandished the scroll and sprung into action. "The scroll is with me, come get it if you dare." "You two, chase the women," the Scarred Man ordered, recognizing Ning Song Wu’s ploy. The group split, each pair pursuing their target. Jetting forward, their trained skills quickly allowed two of them to close in on Ning Song Wu. "Let's take them on together, as I, as an official, have nothing to fear from cowards," Ning Song Wu boldly declared, her legs lightly trembling, her words faltering in an effort to summon courage. The two men rushed forward, delivering a forceful kick. Instinctively, Ning Song Wu protected her abdomen, the bludgeoning force sent her flying a few meters, a sharp "crack" resonated, likely a fracture. Laid on the ground, Ning Song Wu curled into herself, her weak breaths punctuated by painful gasps as her features contorted in agony. Her body shook unwillingly; guttural groans escaped her lips. "Someone of your frail stature, yet so brazen," the Scarred Man sneered disdainfully. "Retrieve the scroll, leave him to me," the Scarred Man instructed, manipulating the sword in preparation as he addressed the Short Masked Man beside him. Braving the acute pain, Ning Song Wu sprang up to seize the scroll before the Short Masked Man could reach it. "Clearly, you don't know when to give up, even in your dire state," the Short Masked Man scorned, taken aback by Ning Song Wu’s undeterred determination. "Ha, who's to say who's really doomed here? You're nothing special. I've got the scroll—try taking it from me if you dare." Ning Song Wu spat a mouthful of blood, clutched the scroll tightly, and darted away. "Interesting, this is the first time I've seen someone so unaware of their own limits," the Short Masked Man exchanged a mocking glance with the Scarred Man, derisively watching Ning Song Wu’s desperate struggle. "Finish this quickly, pursue her," ordered the Scarred Man. With movements as swift as the wind, the two men chased after her, quickly closing the distance. As their steps pounded the ground, they launched into the air, their swords slashing towards Ning Song Wu with lethal speed and ferocity. Sensing the sword's presence behind her, Ning Song Wu spun around, holding her breath and flinging lime powder backward. At the same time, her instincts led her to dodge left, allowing the scroll to slip from her grasp. Overconfident, the attackers were caught off guard. By the time they realized the danger, it was too late. As the Scarred Man fell, he swiftly retrieved the scroll with his left hand and somersaulted to the side. "Ah—," screams erupted as the lime invaded their eyes, forcing them to their knees, clutching their faces, writhing in agony with bloodshot eyes. Ning Song Wu, still shaking with fear, looked to her left arm, seeing a gash that oozed blood, staining her clothing deep red. "Hiss—" She sucked in a harsh breath, clutching her wounded arm, taking advantage of their distraction to escape. ＊ At the other end of the bamboo grove, Ran Fan Yin and Wen Xiang found themselves cornered at a rocky cliff by two masked men. Ning Song Wu had directed her east, but she soon faced a wall of rock—a dead end. Ran Fan Yin cursed inwardly, wondering if Ning Song Wu was fated to be her nemesis—it seemed nothing good had happened since meeting her. "Thought you could run, did you? Let's see where you can escape now," taunted the thin, masked man. The slimmer man raised his left hand, gesturing across his throat to the other, as if asking for his opinion. "Keep them alive. Tie them up and take them back," instructed the robust masked man. "Stay back, or I'll scream!" Wen Xiang quavered, protectively positioning herself in front of Ran Fan Yin. "Scream all you want, maybe someone will come to save you. Hahaha..." jeered the quick-witted masked man. Wen Xiang, pale with fear, broke into a cold sweat. "Mistress, what do we do?" she asked anxiously. "Follow my instructions from before. Don't panic, we can turn this around," Ran Fan Yin reassured her. In tears, Wen Xiang nodded, "Alright." A sly smile flitted across Ran Fan Yin’s lips—she’d let them taste the power of her potent chili-pepper lime powder. "Splash!" she shouted as the masked men closed in. Lunging forward, Ran Fan Yin flung two handfuls of lime powder at them. Wen Xiang held her breath, simultaneously tossing her share. Quickly, they sidestepped and shielded their faces with their sleeves. The masked men, blindsided by the lime, howled in anguish, rolling on the ground. "Too bad they were masked, it wasn't as effective," Ran Fan Yin dusted off her hands, a trace of regret mingled with her exhilaration. "You sneaky witch! I'll cut you to shreds!" the robust masked man fumed, getting to his feet, his eyes flowing with red tears—whether from the chili mix or blood, it was indistinct. He strained his ears to catch any sound, hoping to find their location amidst the chaotic rustling of the wind through the bamboo. Ran Fan Yin placed a finger to Wen Xiang's lips, signaling silence. She gathered a handful of stones, tossing them elsewhere to divert attention, and led Wen Xiang away stealthily. In the moonlight, they ran and paused, repeatedly, until fatigue forced them to rest in a thicket. ＊* In the seventeenth year of Jiankang, early August. "Mistress, wake up, I think I hear a carriage approaching," Wen Xiang gently shook Ran Fan Yin. "Ugh... where?" Ran Fan Yin, bleary-eyed, yawned. "Listen carefully, it sounds like wheels rolling over the ground," Wen Xiang whispered, pressing her ear to the earth. Following suit, Ran Fan Yin also laid down, placing her ear against the ground. "Wen Xiang, you're incredible! Let's head to the road and flag down a ride to Pingyang County," Ran Fan Yin said, as if oblivious to the dangers of the world. The pair hurried to the road, waving their arms wildly. "Second Master, someone's blocking the road ahead," the coachman alerted the middle-aged man on horseback beside him. "I see them. I'll check it out. Hyah!" With a flick of his whip, the man urged his horse forward towards Ran Fan Yin. "Noble brother, you look like a kind-hearted person—could you give us a ride to Pingyang County?" Ran Fan Yin asked. "Sure, I’m headed there myself," the middle-aged man replied with a glance up and down, agreeing without questioning why two women in disarray were in the wilderness. "Ma Zi, let the ladies aboard, be gentle," he added, squinting as he scanned the surroundings before retracting his gaze. "Yes, Sir," the coachman said, assisting Ran Fan Yin onto the carriage. As she drew back the curtain, Ran Fan Yin discovered three young women inside, their hands bound, mouths gagged. This couldn’t be happening—again in a den of thieves? "Wen Xiang, run!" Ran Fan Yin shouted as she jumped out, scooping a handful of dirt to toss at the men, having exhausted her lime supply earlier. She dragged Wen Xiang, who had yet to grasp what was happening, towards a grassy slope by the road. "You can run fast," the middle-aged man remarked, urging his horse to catch up. "Keep running! Can you outrun my steed?" he taunted after dismounting, brandishing a long knife. "Ma Zi, see if they have anything valuable," he instructed the coachman. Dodging a strike, Ran Fan Yin fell back dramatically. "Noble brother, you've frightened me," she exclaimed, discreetly slipping something into her shoe when he'd looked elsewhere. "Get up. Cooperate, and get back in the carriage," he ordered, yanking Ran Fan Yin upright, impatience etched across his face. The master and servant found themselves coerced into the carriage. "Tie them up," the middle-aged man tossed a roll of straw rope from his saddle. The coachman picked it up, acknowledging, "Yes, Second Master." "Ma Zi, what a fortuitous day—such good luck," the middle-aged man laughed, his mouth unable to contain his delight. "Indeed, a day for Second Master to make a fortune," the coachman echoed. The middle-aged man laughed heartily, "Let's hurry to the buyer, then we’ll celebrate at the Apricot Flower Pavilion, and indulge at Changle lane." A month prior, in mid-January of Jiankang's seventeenth year. By dawn on the second day back in Chongzhou, Ning Song Wu delineated precise tasks. Teams of two or three officers were sent to various districts to conduct grassroots assessments, gather disaster reports, and compile them for her evaluation. This allowed her to plan post-disaster recovery based on severity. Ning Song Wu alongside others took charge at Mosang Jung, where the disaster exceeded predictions. The hundreds of loads of mulberry leaves from nearby regions only temporarily met the demands for a few days. Distant areas faced delays that jeopardized the needs of silkworms—distant water couldn't quench present fires. Orders were mandated to ensure the silk production wasn't drastically reduced, prompting Ning Song Wu to devise a solution involving water transport. Traditionally, goods moved along official roads, which, whilst straightforward, were winding. By clearing the upstream of the Mosang River for navigation, the Grand Canal would allow goods to flow south directly to Chongzhou, reducing transport time by three days compared to road travel. It seemed destiny was on Ning Song Wu's side—a few days of heavy rain subsided, replaced by clear skies and sun. With her foresight, preparations fortified riverbanks, calmed the populace, and saw disaster recovery progress within a fortnight. Damaged mulberry fields were replanted, residences in Mosang Jung were fully sanitized to prevent plague, all meticulously orderly. Despite the rises and falls of governance, Ning Song Wu felt rewarded by the positive outcomes her efforts yielded. Living in the magistrate's office for over a month, the incident with Ning Jing Yang's midnight fury at Ning Song Wu soon unfolded thereafter. Awaking the day after drinking the revitalizing chicken soup, Ning Song Wu found her head throbbing painfully, struggling to open her eyes; she realized she was in bed, her outer garments inexplicably missing. Alarmed, she noted Ran Fan Yin was absent, the soreness and tension reminding her something must have occurred last night, though she had no memory. Unbeknownst to her, it was Ran Fan Yin’s second time making her sleep on the floor before, dragging her to bed in the morning and removing her jacket to keep the sheets clean. Ran Fan Yin, preening at the dressing table, heard Ning Song Wu stir, casually said, "Wu Lang, you're awake. Freshen up; time for breakfast," making no mention of the prior night. Pallid, Ning Song Wu checked beneath the covers and found nothing awry. Could nothing have happened? Then why the aches and cloudy mind? "Did you sleep well last night?" Ning Song Wu tentatively asked, fearing she might hear something from Ran Fan Yin that she wouldn't want to. Ran Fan Yin turned to look at her, with a half-smile, slowly enunciating, "Ex-treme-ly well!" In her mind, she had cursed Ning Song Wu a thousand times over for even daring to ask such a thing! The night before, before Ning Song Wu returned to their room, Ran Fan Yin had mixed her own concoction of knockout drops into the chicken soup sent by the servants. The potion worked exceptionally well, causing Ning Song Wu to pass out immediately after drinking it. However, Ning Song Wu's snoring was earth-shatteringly loud all night! Had she not feared being accused of murdering her husband, Ran Fan Yin would have likely smothered him into silence hundreds of times over. Ran Fan Yin couldn't believe that such a thin, mild-mannered man could snore so loudly! While she felt no romantic passion for him, she acknowledged his decent character, grateful he hadn't forced himself on her during their wedding night. The one sliver of fondness she might have had for him evaporated with his snoring. Extremely well? The expression on Ran Fan Yin's face left Ning Song Wu baffled, as if she had committed some grave mistake the night before. She couldn't fathom why Ran Fan Yin's eyes appeared dull and rimmed with dark circles. During breakfast, a servant noticed the dark circles shadowing their mistress's eyes and the fatigue on her face, coupled with Ning Song Wu's unending adjustment of her waist and shoulders. It was concluded that it must have been indulgence without restraint, as their mistress was usually very disciplined. "Wu Er, is your waist sore?" Zhou Hua Xiu asked, seeing Ning Song Wu's weary appearance, continuously massaging her waist, assuming she was unwell. "It's a bit sore, but nothing serious, it'll be better in a couple of days," Ning Song Wu replied honestly. "Oh, Yin Er, what's this?" Even layers of powder couldn't conceal the dark rings around Ran Fan Yin's eyes. Zhou Hua Xiu pointed at them. Ran Fan Yin replied coyly, "Mother, perhaps I slept a bit too late last night. Sorry to trouble you with worry," silently blaming it on Ning Song Wu’s fault. Wait, why was she portraying such an expression? Ning Song Wu felt Ran Fan Yin’s demeanor seemed like she was trying to tell her mother it was due to excessive marital activities. Zhou Hua Xiu knew her daughter well enough to be certain nothing of the sort happened, yet Ran Fan Yin's demeanor and apparent condition suggested something had indeed occurred the previous night. The maidservants exchanged glances, faces flushed with embarrassment, suppressing laughter. The saying "absence makes the heart grow fonder, and a moment of springtime is worth a thousand gold pieces" seemed applicable. "Staying up all night is bad for your health. Even though you're young, don't underestimate it; you must take care of yourselves," Zhou Hua Xiu declared, her words unintentionally affirming assumptions about Ning Song Wu and Ran Fan Yin. "Mother!" Ning Song Wu flushed, overwhelmed with embarrassment; she knew nothing had happened, yet it sounded like they were being admonished for excess. "What your mother means is to sleep earlier for the sake of your health. You must cherish the body gifted by your parents; it would ache me deeply if you were overwhelmed by health issues," Zhou Hua Xiu adjusted her words, realizing the implication of her previous statement. All the maidservants stifled their laughter, captivated by the juicy conversation, fearful of laughing out loud lest they draw attention. "I'll remember Mother's words," Ran Fan Yin promised, observing the scene with detached amusement. "Mother, the porridge will get cold," Ning Song Wu interjected, placing food into Zhou Hua Xiu's bowl, attempting to steer away from the awkward topic. "Don't drink too much chicken soup. While your father insists, consuming too many nourishing substances isn't healthy," Zhou Hua Xiu broached another sensitive subject. She was concerned that even though Ning Song Wu was biologically female, her body could not withstand such heavy nourishment over time. "Understood," Ning Song Wu mumbled into her porridge, wishing fervently to disappear from the scene and escape the embarrassment. "I'm finished. Mother, lady, enjoy your meal. I have matters at the magistrate's office to attend to," she announced, hoping for a quick exit. "Wu Lang, hold on," Ran Fan Yin suddenly called after Ning Song Wu. Surprised, Ning Song Wu pointed at herself; they were not yet acquainted enough for this. "What is it?" she asked, intrigued. "Come with me," Ran Fan Yin whispered. They retreated to a secluded area. "After a flood, there’s sure to be an outbreak of disease. Are you aware?" Ran Fan Yin, being from a modern era, knew this all too well. Without proper management, it could easily lead to an epidemic. Given the medical inadequacies of this era, an outbreak would quickly spread, potentially sealing Chongzhou’s fate. If that happened, Ning Song Wu, as the magistrate, would be held accountable, facing inevitable execution. Although the death penalty might be pardoned due to being a Grand Commander's child, punishment was unavoidable—and she, as his wife, wouldn’t escape unscathed. The more Ran Fan Yin thought, the more she feared; she didn't want to perish before even enjoying her newfound wealth and life. Hence, she concluded: a divorce was necessary! 【Then who will ask?】 【...Oh, right. If it reaches this point, we certainly aren't the ones to ask.】 【If the master wishes to meet the sword immortal, hm, perhaps it isn’t out of the question.】 【No! No! No! Stop this! Don’t do it!】 【I regret it...】 【Enough, no more...】 This site has no pop-up ads and keeps its permanent domain at (xbanxia.com).