ITIEQ C26

Chapter 26 – Charcoal in the Snow

“Lord Shen is truly too unfeeling, commanding us to pack up and leave the manor at once! After all, he’s still the official’s real son!” Lü Song grumbled angrily as he shoved things into bundles.

“And His Majesty too—too cruel! Young Master has never even been beaten once in his whole life. Ten lashes of the bamboo rod—surely he’ll need ten days, half a month to recover. If only it were me—I’ve a tough hide, I’d be back on my feet the very next day!”

Shen Qinghe, lying face-down on the bed, listened to their huffing complaints and quietly chuckled.

Nan Hong was calmly sorting deeds and contracts without raising his head. “Luckily, Young Master anticipated this and told me earlier to liquidate all our shops, turning them into ready silver. Else, being exiled all the way to Qiuquan Prefecture, land deeds worth a fortune would be useless, no better than scrap paper.”

“The time was short, I’ve only managed to exchange this much. Many buyers pressed hard when they saw we were desperate to sell, cutting the price deliberately… It’s said the price of grain outside the capital has risen several-fold. Still, even with this, Young Master can live without worry for a lifetime.”

Shen Qinghe took the ledger and glanced over it. The sum was far more than he had expected.

“Well done, Nan Hong. Truly well done.”

“And me? What about me? Running back and forth, comparing prices, I’ve already run all of the capital for you!” protested Lü Song.

Shen Qinghe looked over and smiled. “Good, good, you too.”

Nan Hong had been born into a scholarly family but fallen into decline. Even so, his literacy and accounting skills remained sound. Shen Qinghe had also sent both attendants to study at the academy. With what Nan Hong learned, he reorganized all the household’s finances; the ledgers were now quick, orderly, and easy to read.

Lü Song, by contrast, was hopeless—too restless to sit in front of books, always falling asleep at the sight of them. He seemed fit only to eat, drink, and provide entertainment like a mascot. Shen Qinghe let him be, though still forced him to learn his characters—otherwise, this silly boy might someday get tricked into selling himself without even knowing.

But what they had learned these months might let them find decent livelihoods later.

Slowly, Shen Qinghe rose. From his bosom he pulled two yellowed contracts and raised them in front of the boys.

Nan Hong startled. “Two more contracts? Young Master, why didn’t you hand them over sooner? It’s too late to sell them now.”

Shen Qinghe shook his head. As Nan Hong opened them, his eyes widened—slave contracts! Their own.

He looked to his lord in shock. “This is—”

“Your deeds of indenture.” Shen Qinghe tilted onto his side, propping his cheek with one hand. “Luckily, my mother was the one who bought you, so these documents never went into the Shen treasury. Otherwise, I might have had to sneak in crippled as I am and steal them.”

At once, tears welled in Lü Song’s eyes, spilling over as large drops. “Young Master, are you abandoning us?”

“Look at you, leaking like this. If you cry every day in that desolate northwest, I won’t survive it. Take them back. From now on, you’re free men. I’ll even buy you fields and send you off in comfort. Qiuquan is no fine posting. You can remain here in the capital in peace. When I return, we’ll all eat and drink in style.”

His smile was warm as he looked at them.

But both youths fell to their knees instead.

Nan Hong: “I shall follow you wherever you go!”

Lü Song: “I won’t cry again. Only if parted from Young Master would I truly cry every day—when you return, my eyes would already be blind with tears.”

No matter how Shen Qinghe argued, the two refused, pulling every trick—crying, clinging, threatening to hang themselves. Overwhelmed, he finally nodded.

His heart warmed. Outwardly he only scolded, mocked: “Two fools. This is your choice. Don’t blame me if you regret it later.”

Lü Song wiped his tears away, grinning as he resumed his packing.

“With a master as good as you, only a real fool wouldn’t follow!”

Their carriages finally reached the city gates.

Shen Qinghe, unable to sit properly, lay awkwardly atop piled cushions. When the horses stopped sharply, he nearly tumbled to the floor.

Lü Song lifted the curtain. Nan Hong was helping him settle when he shouted angrily at the driver: “You bumbling fool! If you can’t manage horses, I’ll take the reins myself!”

Lü Song rubbed his nose sheepishly but then grinned suddenly. “Young Master—look outside!”

Shen Qinghe turned. Against the bloody sunset stood several dusty young men.

Shan Bowen and Lang Xinyue held the reins of two thin horses, behind them a large wagon.

Xu Lesheng teased a black stallion with a stalk of foxtail grass, getting head-butted for his trouble.

Gao Rong stood aloof, arms crossed. Yu Luo grinned openly, flashing straight white teeth.

“Teacher Shen! What took you so long? We’ve been waiting half an hour!”

Shen Qinghe raised a hand to his forehead. These boys!

“Didn’t I have word sent? The academy is closed. Go home, each of you.”

Yu Luo, ever so cheeky, replied: “No! What if Teacher takes on new students one day and forgets us?”

Gao Rong bowed: “Sir poured your heart into teaching us. We repay with our lives, to share adversity with you.”

Xu Lesheng tossed away his foxtail stalk. “We even pooled everything to buy this wagon! You can’t drive us off now.”

“Fools! Ready to throw away your futures? All just to follow me into exile?”

Truly, hardship reveals true loyalty.

Shen Qinghe could not claim unmoved. He tried to smile, but said severely: “If you follow me, what of your families?”

Shan Bowen answered: “We only came to the capital to study and sit the exams. Our kin are a thousand miles away. No need to worry. If ever we succeed, we can return in glory then.”

Shen Qinghe sighed. “Enough, enough. Then I must bear not only myself, but protect you as well.”

The youths hastened to hitch their wagon. Xu Lesheng laughed: “Teacher, you’re younger than me. By rights, we should be protecting you!”

The convoy moved on.

Shen Qinghe gave one last look at the lofty walls of the capital, then let down the curtain and did not look back again.

—

In his former life, Shen Qinghe traveled far and wide, fast trains and planes. Even once enduring the slow “green trains”^2 was bad enough. Yet now, in retrospect, he longed for that misery—for this current journey was far worse.

Bumpy could scarcely describe it. Rocky, muddy paths, impossible mountain roads—the carriages jolted endlessly. His flogged backside made each shake unbearable. Awake it hurt; asleep it hurt worse. Each time he opened the curtain, it was wilderness or choking dust. They pressed nights through, camping in bitter cold. At first he vomited with sickness. Later, he collapsed into sleep the moment aboard, as though repaying every sleep debt of his prior life.

At last, crossing another rocky goat trail, the land opened. A proper post road! Still barren, but smoother, enough to ease their suffering.

Lü Song rejoiced. “Finally! This ride will not kill us!”

He urged the horse forward. His throat, overstrained, rasped terribly.

“Stop!”

The shout cracked the air. All startled.

“This road is mine! This tree is mine! If you want to pass—leave the toll behind!”

From the brush leapt dozens of burly bandits, hair wild, feet in straw sandals, brandishing blades polished cruelly bright.

Blinking blankly, Lü Song asked: “But this is an official road. How could it be yours?”

They laughed raucously, mangled accents thick. “Because we say it is! Hand over your valuables—or else!”

Their leader raised his knife, eyes green with greed at the fine clothes of the servants, the sleek horses. His underlings nearly shouted in drool.

Outside, Shan Bowen and Yu Luo exchanged grim looks.

Bandits.

Indeed, the road to Qiuquan was infamous. The farther northwest one went from the capital, the more lawless.

They had armed themselves, prepared a little for danger. But they were scholars nonetheless—how could books ward against blades?

Shan Bowen was first to step down, holding his hands high. “We are but passersby. Take the wagons, the horses. We’ll leave at once.”

At that, everyone climbed down—save the foremost carriage, wherein the occupant remained.

The bandit chief frowned, pointing his blade at that carriage. “What’s this? You refuse to come out? Then don’t blame us for bloodshed.”

Lü Song hurried forward, blocking the way. “This is the carriage of the Prefect of Qiuquan. Do you dare harm an imperial officer?”

The bandit sneered. “Prefect? Of that backwater? What’s there to steal? Kill officials too! Can the court’s arm stretch this far? Brothers—take them!”

Laughter echoed. Blades lifted. The three carriages were surrounded.

Lang Xinyue drew a dagger from his sleeve, backing away step by step.

Doom pressed in heavy. Yet they circled tightly around Shen Qinghe’s coach, none retreating.

Yu Luo clenched his teeth. “To meet you, to meet our teacher—it’s an honor! If we fall to death here, let’s meet as brothers again in the Yellow Springs.”

Gao Rong’s face was stone. “Who’d want to be your brother, fool.”

Yu Luo’s laugh was more tragic than tears. “Knew you hated me all along—but hey, at least you said it once!”

The ground shook suddenly. Pebbles danced.

From afar, a dust storm surged—horses thundered closer.

The bandit chief swore. “Hell! Fortune cursed—withdraw!”

The bandits scattered frantically.

From the head of the charging troop rode a young captain clad in white armor, plumed helm blazing, eyes bright as blades. He urged his warhorse into the woods. Soon came cries like pigs slaughtered, and he emerged spotless, blood dripping from his scarlet spear-tassel.

Dozens of bandits, felled in moments.

“Fools. Don’t they know I’ve claimed this entire region? Daring to rob under my nose!”

His troop mopped up what few remained. Flourishing the lance, sitting astride his steed, he looked down at the shaken travelers.

“Bandits swarm these parts. Foolish of you to travel with so few.”

He lifted his hand, preparing to ride away. Just then Lang Xinyue called: “This is the carriage of the Prefect of Qiuquan! Sir, please—escort us! We’ll reward you heavily!”

All the youths pleaded.

The young officer—Yao Guang—halted, frowning.

“Prefect of Qiuquan? Shen Qinghe? That’s meant to be my charge! I was ordered to fetch him myself. And you people—” He squinted. “Doesn’t match the likeness His Majesty gave me. Shen Qinghe was said to be only eighteen!”

His doubtful eyes swept each face—finally settling on Lü Song. “You! Are you Shen Qinghe?”

Lü Song waved frantically. “No, no! Our master is inside—”

The travelers suddenly remembered—Shen Qinghe had made no sound at all! Heart pounding, they feared something had happened!

Yao Guang snorted thrice. So this is the one praised by the Emperor himself, said to have fine temper and great merit? Yet he cowers like a turtle at the first whiff of bandits? Hmph! Not so impressive.

Even His Majesty had never praised Yao Guang so highly!

Leaping from his saddle, spear poised, he strode to the foremost carriage. With one motion he tore open the curtain—

Inside, warmth steamed.

Shen Qinghe lay collapsed, the hand-warmer rolled away. His ink-dark hair spilled across the cushions, discarded clothes strewn to the corners. Only thin underclothes clung loosely, collar fallen open to reveal pale skin, fine collarbone. The air itself seemed scented, heady.

Yao Guang froze, face to face with that flushed countenance. Warm breath brushed against his cheek.

Suddenly, he yanked the curtain down!

“What are you doing!”

Lü Song shoved past the crimson-eared young general, peered in—and cried out:

“Oh no! Young Master has fainted!”

Footnotes:

1. Charcoal in the snow (雪中炭) – A proverb meaning “aid given in direst need,” in contrast to “flowers on brocade.” Here, it underscores unexpected help in their darkest moment. 
2. Green trains (绿皮火车) – Nickname for older, slow, uncomfortable trains in modern China, with green-colored carriages, symbol of hardship travel. Shen Qinghe remembers them wistfully compared to this rough exile journey.