ITIEQ C27

Chapter 27 – Newcomer

Lü Song’s shout brought everyone rushing up to see what was happening inside the carriage.

Yao Guang, crowded aside by the group, twirled the tasseled spear in his palm a few times, then leapt down and swung himself back onto his white horse.

“You’ve been on the road too long, and your lord inside has fallen ill. Better not to press forward. There’s a stream just ahead—go there and rest a while!”

The others thought this reasonable. Gao Rong and Nan Hong stayed in the carriage to tend to Shen Qinghe, while the rest remounted and accompanied the troops to the brookside.

The forest here was dense; usually they wouldn’t dare linger. At most, they’d quickly refill their water skins and hurry on. But with soldiers guarding them, after days of exhaustion they were aching bone-deep. Finally, they could stop, stretch, and breathe.

Shen Qinghe was carried from the carriage and placed beneath the shade of a tree. The farther northwest they traveled, the colder it grew. Nan Hong fetched the winter furs they had brought—the snow-white fox cloak wrapped him entirely, making him look all the redder and fevered inside, like a shrimp boiled too long.

“His face is burning! All my fault—busy gossiping outside, I didn’t even notice he’d overheated and collapsed within.” Lü Song paced anxiously. Gao Rong dispatched him to fetch fresh water.

Though the road was barren of towns, it was fortunate Gao Rong had studied medicine. He checked Shen Qinghe’s pulse, examined nose and lips, and breathed relief. “The fever comes from his wounds and poor rest atop the hardships of travel. Just a heat illness. Still, left unchecked it could harm his constitution.”

He dipped a kerchief into the icy water Lü Song brought from the stream—already thinly iced over this deepest part of winter—then warmed it in his palms before having Nan Hong wipe down the unconscious boy’s hands and face. From his pouch he produced several needles, pricking ear-tip, palm, and foot.

Yao Guang stood nearby, reins loose in one hand, posture a mask of sentry-watch. Yet his eyes kept drifting to the tree’s shade. Upon hearing the “doctor” mention wounds, he scrutinized Shen Qinghe carefully.

“Why does your master have wounds?”

At once Lü Song’s anger flared. “Because some snakes and rats colluded, framed our young lord, else why would he be flogged unjustly—ten strokes! Now we’re exiled to this godforsaken place…”

“Beaten?” Yao Guang dropped his reins. At Lü Song’s torrent he gave a disdainful snort. “Merely ten lashes and he fainted? In the army, I took blows from cudgels that split skin to bone—just drink some burning wine, dab some salve, and days later we were bounding like wolves again.”

Lü Song, stung, snapped back: “Our young master was raised in honor and comfort, not like you, hide thick and flesh coarse—!” But Nan Hong tugged him down to help wipe Shen Qinghe’s arm, silencing him. This wasn’t the capital. Their master was still prone, needing this young officer’s escort to Qiuquan. They dared not anger him.

Yet Yao Guang, far from irked, only turned for another look. An arm peeked pale from the cloak, delicate skin stark against forest air. Unlike hardy northern men, this one was all fine flesh and subtle bone.

Were all men of the capital thus? And would its women be daisies made flesh—grace like blossoms in a book?

The Emperor once invited him to the capital—he had refused without thought. Now, a pang of regret stole into him.

With the carriages readied again, they set off anew. Yao Guang rode at the head, slowing the column for Shen Qinghe’s sake.

Ordinarily, new officials had police escorts upon departure. But Shen Qinghe, disgraced and demoted, traveled without that honor—thus their sorry state.

The last leg passed without incident. Shen Qinghe slept throughout. When he woke, it was already a day after reaching Qiuquan. He blinked groggily, last memory of being tumbled like laundry in a drum, never carsick in two lifetimes until now! At last, dazed, he found himself in bed.

“You’re awake, young master!” Lü Song exclaimed joyfully, rushing in with a basin of water.

His throat hoarse, Shen Qinghe swallowed water with Nan Hong’s help before asking about their journey. Upon learning they had met bandits, his scalp prickled with terror. They must have been blessed indeed!

Days without walking had left him weak as noodles. With help he staggered around the house, surveying his new “home.”

All local officials lodged in shared compounds. Though crude compared to the capital’s elegant corridors, these blue-tiled halls were the best Qiuquan had. Yet the roof bore great gaping holes—wind would drive him mad by night.

Nan Hong saw his gaze and laughed. “Someone is fixing it—our rescuer himself.”

Outside, Shen Qinghe glimpsed a youth in light-gray garb on the roof, patching tiles with brickwork. Shan Bowen lugged a ladder below, but the youth waved him off: “Don’t need it, I leap fine enough!”

Indeed, he sealed the break with deft hands. Shen thought: young men’s vigor is sure different.

Shen Qinghe, fox fur about his shoulders, looked almost ghostly pale against it. As Yao Guang leapt down, meeting him directly, he stumbled a step upon seeing that face. One mis-stride made him slip, though he caught the wall and landed safely. Tiles shattered about him in shards.

“See? Told you to be careful,” Shan Bowen sighed relief, holding the ladder back.

Shen Qinghe bowed slightly with a smile. “I am Shen Qinghe. Thank you for escorting us here.”

Yao Guang shifted, hands clenching tight behind his back, avoiding those smiling eyes. “I am Yao Guang, Circuit Inspector of the Northwest. Thank me not—it was at His Majesty’s order.”

Shen’s courtesy only met cold steel. He scratched his nose in awkwardness, smoothing with polite words: “So young, and already a regional inspector. Such talent.”

The youth’s tone turned harder. “Not much. I hear you were once Censor-in-Attendance. That was something, too.”

The words dripped like mockery. Shen Qinghe’s smile nearly faltered. Had he wronged this man in some unconscious way?

His eyes flicked to the broken shards on the ground. Yao Guang edged closer, squarely blocking his view.

“You fainted long. Better stay inside and rest.”

Banished so curtly, Shen Qinghe thought: what a strange man. Still, he smothered it with another smile and turned away.

Yao Guang, looking then at the shards, abruptly ground them beneath his heel. Feeling foolish at himself, he fetched broom and pan to tidy the mess.

—

As prefect, Shen lived atop a hill with the other county officials. From the courtyard he looked far out: beyond, rough huts and thatch roofs stretched to horizon. Stone houses few, all shrouded in grey, winter fog pressing heavily. Bog-land blurred into emptiness.

Qiuquan, near the frontier, no doubt knew disaster camps and crueler sights. Shen Qinghe had prepared himself. Sparse land mattered little. Step by step one grew strong.

On the way, he had enrolled Lang Xinyue as full disciple. The academy called Qingbei might remain in the capital, but its spirit followed them. His five students, he settled into first task of the new life—

“Conduct investigations of Qiuquan’s people and livelihoods. Each prepare a research report.”

“A… research report?” They blinked at the odd word.

Shen nodded. “Choose your own focus. It need not be vast, only true. Three days later, submit it.”

Having once been set by the system to observe fields, the idea seemed not so alien—merely substituting “people” for “crops.” Fired at once with purpose, they vowed to earn their first “Excellent!”

They dispersed eagerly. Shen himself meant to investigate as well.

But he was pulled back fast by Nan Hong and Lü Song.

“Master, your fever persists. Rest!”

“Yes, yes! Back to bed!”

Shen pressed his forehead with the back of his hand. “This tiny heat? Nonsense. Every cell in me feels full of power!”^1 To him, even hanging from IV drip in hospital while drinking iced Americano and finishing three presentations was possible. Would a little fever drag him down now?

But his attendants, ignorant of “cells” or “hospital,” clung all the tighter for fear his collapse would kill him.

From nowhere, Yao Guang appeared leaning against the wall. Arms folded, gaze sharp.

“Rest while you must. These stick-thin arms and legs of yours—leave the house and you’ll snap from the breeze.”

The words set Shen Qinghe’s teeth on edge. His smile thin, he replied: “Thank you for such kind concern, Lord Yao. I may not be as sturdy as you—but I’m not so weak as to shatter at a touch.”

Footnotes:

1. “Every cell filled with power” – Reference to the protagonist’s modern-day background, joking about scientific terminology in contrast to the ancient setting. His attendants, unaware of what ‘cells’ means, only think he is talking nonsense but dangerous nonsense. 
2. Circuit Inspector (巡撫使, xunfushi) – A regional supervisory role akin to a provincial governor’s assistant or circuit inspector-general, with authority over military and civil affairs in frontier regions.